


Revelation at Ordo Eris

by Silverheart



Category: Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order (Video Game)
Genre: Adventure, F/M, Fluff, Romance, Star Wars Legends Universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:14:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 24,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28118301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverheart/pseuds/Silverheart
Summary: When BD-1 receives a garbled distress call on a coded frequency known only to a few friends of Edo Cordova, the crew of the Mantis sets out to find it. The quest leads them into the den of the Haxion Brood yet again, this time with a plan.
Relationships: Cal Kestis/Merrin
Comments: 46
Kudos: 102





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The characters decided to do what they wanted and I just went along for the ride.
> 
> The title is a send up to the Star Wars EU (Legends is the name now) I grew up with- Showdown at Centerpoint, Truce at Bakura, Starfighters of Adumar, etc.- and if I had any photoshop skills at all, I would have pulled together a cover in the style of those delightfully 80s covers.

“ _Kriff_!” 

Cal knew before the splox even scuttled away that his shot had missed. He’d always been awful with blasters; the clones’ attempts to teach him had a tendency to end in disaster so often that Master Tapal had ordered them to stop trying after he’d managed to get an AT-TE crushed by an inactive starfighter. His master had reasoned that Cal was sufficiently gifted with a lightsaber to be able to handle his defense and anything that went _that_ awry would be a lesson he was meant to learn, anyway, so it wasn’t worth the continuing risk to all involved. 

Cere, however, takes a different approach. She shook her head from where she sat on an empty crate. “Close. You need to line up the sights a bit better. The circle on the front sights should be right between the rear sights. Just concentrate. Don’t let your frustration get the better of you.” 

Cal took a deep breath and aimed at the splox again. It hadn’t gone far- not a lot of brainpower in that exoskeleton-lined up the sights as directed, and squeezed the trigger. The blaster bolt hit the splox and it sprawled out, dead. 

“There you go!” Cere said, grinning, “Not so hard after all!” 

Merrin, leaning against a rocky wall, nodded her approval as well. “A good shot.” It only took him twenty tries over the course of five lessons. Merrin, on the other hand, seemed to have been born a crack shot, despite never having touched a blaster before. One of Cere’s blasters was now on her hip. 

Thinking of it, Cal glanced at the weatherbeaten weapon, and his eyes lingered in the location. He shook himself mentally when he realized what he was doing and hoped neither woman had noticed. 

“We’ll practice every day,” Cere said, “Both of you are very capable of defending yourselves in other ways, but there are times when a lightsaber or green flame is going to end up drawing more attention, causing even more danger.” 

“A fair point,” Merrin said. She dropped a hand to the blaster. “My sisters would be shocked to see me wield such a thing.” She shook her head and looked at Cal, giving him a soft smile. “But then again, that would the smallest of shocks, I think.” 

Cal grinned back. “I’m pretty sure I’d shock even Master Tapal now.” 

Cere snorted. “Jaro Tapal was no hardliner, Cal; it would take a lot more to shock him than you can imagine.” She stood and stretched. “Take my advice: don’t get old.” There was a joyous yelp from the open doorway behind them. “Sounds like Greez is content with the kitchen.” 

Cal rubbed his neck. He better be. It had taken him most of yesterday to get Eno Cordova’s old kitchen up and running. A lot of it had been spent twisted into odd angles to repair electrical connections. It was the only way to get Greez off the Mantis. He probably wouldn’t join them in living in the place, but it would be able to eat together in a more spacious area. Also without Greez fretting about potential stains to his couch. 

BD-1 came trotting out of the old hermitage and leapt up to Cal’s shoulder. He trilled something excitedly. “BD-1 figured out how to shut down those fans without shutting the whole electrical system off,” he translated, “Thanks buddy! That’s been a headache.” 

“Good. I’d like to see fully see Cordova’s workshop.” Cere headed inside and Cal and Merrin trailed after her. Settling down on Bogano, at least for a time, meant restoring Cordova’s hermitage. The place was old, older than Cordova, and much bigger than what any lone hermit would have needed. Cal guessed it would have been built by homesteaders a long time ago. 

He wasn’t sure he wanted to live in the shadow of the Vault and that…thing…inside. But Cere’s argument, that they needed a safe place to call home that wasn’t a ship meant for a crew of two, was too practical for him to deny. 

He had never told her about the Zeffo mirror. He wasn’t sure she’d understand, or if it would just awaken the vague resentment he felt from her when it came to the holocron. She’d say something like it was just another deceptive vision, like on Darthomir, or that it had only been a vision of Trilla succeeding, which she hadn’t. 

No. It had been the future forged by the holocron if they had kept it. He remembered the red blade in his hand, that Imperial uniform…he remembered the ghosts of Inquisitor Kestis’ thoughts overlaying his own, dark and hungry, the echoes of future that he had stopped from coming to pass. 

Cal shivered. 

“Are you alright?” Merrin asked. 

He ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, just…bad memories.” 

BD-1 nudged him comfortingly and made a metallic coo. 

“Ah.” She looked at him thoughtfully. “While electrical repairs are important, they will not chase away bad memories. Come. There is much to see on this planet and daylight is brief.” She held out a hand. 

Cal grinned wide and took it. “Cere, we’re going to do some more salvaging while there’s still daylight. There’s some spots near Binog Mesa we haven’t gone over.” 

Merrin didn’t wait for approval, just pulled him out into the full afternoon sun. 

*** 

Cere didn’t bother to answer Cal, only sighed as the Nightsister led him into the wilds of Bogano. The young pair moved gracefully up a cliff, Cal helping Merrin, and were quickly out of view. 

She shook her head and made her way further into her teacher’s old home. Her new home, she hoped. 

Greez looked up from where he was organizing a series of jars full of spices. “Didn’t you have a couple tag-alongs?” 

“They are out doing more salvaging.” 

The latero raised an eyebrow. “Right. ‘Salvaging.’ That’s what they call it there days.” He popped open one of his jars and took a sniff with great pleasure, sighing before he closed it again. “I still got money on the witch going for it first.” 

Cere sat down on an old stool. “I’m not betting on _that_ one way or another.” It was…well, it was inappropriate in any number of ways. Jedi avoided such attachments, and while there were always giggling stories in the Temple halls—Master Kenobi was rumored to be the real-life inspiration for several (contraband) romance holonovels— it had never been something real for most Jedi. The Order knew the risks of a broken heart. Look at how Cere had been brought so close to the edge by the ruin of her favorite Padawan, or even at what Malicos had become with his pride and glories thwarted. 

“They’re kids,” Greez said, running a hand along the jars and nodding in satisfaction, “Even I can see how they look at each other when they think the other isn’t looking, and I’m not even a humanoid.” He gave her look. “It’s another Jedi thing, isn’t it?” 

“Many of them.” 

Greez scratched behind one ear. “What the kid did…” He pulled up a chair. “It, uh, it seemed pretty final to me. Like it or hate it.” Silence hung between them. “Cere…if the Jedi ever come back, I just don’t think it’ll be us who bring them back. And I don’t think they will be the same if they do. With the stories you tell, and the way it all went down, maybe, well, maybe it shouldn’t be.” He rested a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t hate me for saying that, please.” 

She smiled at her old friend, placing a hand on his briefly. “Never, Greez. You may even be right. I just want Cal to be safe. Merrin is dangerous.” Cere had grown fond of the girl, in a way, but she was still a Nightsister, strange and shadowy, and she had tried to kill them all at least once. 

Greez chuckled. “Cal is no slouch himself. I’ve seen the kid cut his way through crack Stormtrooper squads like Naboo cheese. He was on his own on Bracca for years and that junkheap is not exactly the land of sunshine and smiles. Give the kid credit.” Greez grinned and leaned back in his chair. “Besides, I have plenty of pointers for him should nature starts taking it course.” 

Cere rolled her eyes. “Oh, yes, I’m sure you know all about sweet-talking Nightsisters.” 

He shuddered and hopped to his feet so he could begin bustling about the kitchen. “I meant in a more general sense. If it can work on a wookie…which it did, if you’ll recall…” 

Cere shook her head and picked up her hallikset, strumming idly while Greez recounted one of the more…hairy…encounters they’d had. Again. 


	2. Chapter 2

Cal steered them well clear of the Vault as they made their way to Binog Mesa. They ran across a few Imperial marked supply crates and BD-1 marked them on the map for pickup later. Trilla must have landed her troops scattershot as she flew towards the Vault. It didn’t seem like they’d had much in the way of supplies, enough for a day, and no comms equipment. 

Merrin looked up at him as she shut one such crate as they neared the sleeping Binog. “I wonder what they thought when the transport left for orbit. This is enough for a few meals and a tent.” 

“Probably that she was coming back.” 

“I didn’t meet her. Could she inspire such loyalty?” 

Cal thought about it. “Yes. She was trusted enough to guard Jedi children at the end and she…got them listen to her.” He frowned, remembering the echo from Trilla’s ligthsaber. 

Merrin bumped his shoulder. “I’m sorry. No more bad thoughts. Come. I can hear the beast snoring.” She looked towards the nearest cliff face and crouched before sprinting towards it and throwing herself off with a catlike leap. She landed with the same wild grace as she did everything else. 

Cal grinned at the sight. He wasn’t surprised that Merrin could jump as far as a Jedi, since Darthomir’s landscape was even more jagged than Bogano’s. He liked watching that leap every time she did it. 

BD-1 gave him annoyed beep. “Right, right.” He jumped, flipping in mid-air, to land by Merrin’s side. 

“I like that,” Merrin told him, “It is fun.” 

“Fun?” 

“No Nightsister would waste energy in such a way, but it has style.” 

Cal was left to wonder if that was a compliment or not. 

They made their way across the soft ground to the other side of the small mesa. The great binog was sleeping on the other side, too far for either of them to jump to. Cal didn’t think it was very aggressive, but he didn’t want to disturb its nap. It had moved when the Empire had attacked and it didn’t seem to like moving all that much. 

Merrin hummed and sat on the cliff edge, her legs dangling down. “It’s very old,” she said. Cal joined her. “I think it might be bigger than Gogara.” 

Cal eyed the beast thoughtfully. “I’m pretty sure it is.” 

Merrin chuckled. “I saw you fight her.” 

“Oh.” Cal blushed. “I, uh, wouldn’t recommend doing it that way.” He’d had to try to defend himself while hoping that, if he took the chriodactyl down, it would be closer to the ground. It hadn’t worked out that way, but anything you can walk away from…BD-1 made a noise that sounded a lot like a chuckle at his back. 

“I wouldn’t recommend doing it at all.” She gave him a reprimanding glance. “Nightbrothers went to her lair to earn favor by _surviving_. Most do not. They do not fight her in her skies.” 

“It wasn’t something I planned on!” 

She looked away quickly. “If I had been wiser, you would not have had to fight her at all.” 

“It’s not always easy to find the right direction.” Tentatively, Cal reached out to lightly touch her shoulder. She ran a little cooler than he did. “No more bad thoughts, remember?” 

She smiled at him and his heart skipped a beat. “Indeed.” She laid her own hand on his wrist. “What do you recommend?” 

Well. Um. 

Before he could answer, BD-1 started beeping erratically. Both leapt to their feet, Cal igniting his lightsaber, Merrin holding green flame ready in her hands. 

There was nothing. Behind them, the binog grunted and shifted its massive bulk. 

BD-1 was still beeping. Cal deactivated his lightsaber and dropped to a knee beside him. “What is it, BD?” 

The little droid shook his head and began playing a garbled hologram. He could tell it was a humanoid, but the shape was wavering and made of static. Whatever the being was saying was impossible to understand through the interference. 

It seemed to loop a few times, then shut off. BD-1 staggered back. Cal picked him up gently. “Whoa now, buddy. You okay?” 

The droid beeped a quiet affirmative and settled onto Cal’s shoulder. 

Merrin extinguished her fires. “Does that happen often?” 

“Only with some of Cordova’s recordings, but those are crystal clear.” 

“I suspect we will learn soon.” She gestured to sun. “Greez will have dinner ready soon.” 

“Yeah. I wouldn’t want to be navigating the Plains in the dark, either.” He checked to see that BD-1 had a good grip on his back. “Let’s go. Greez won’t put up with us being late for dinner.” 


	3. Chapter 3

As ever, Greez did not disappoint with dinner. One thing Merrin had never realized is how much better food could be in places that were not Dathomir. The meat was more tender, better cooked, and there were simply far more options. 

Dathomir had not been utterly cut off from the galaxy, but Mother Talzin had not let many of the sisters encounter visiting outsiders. It was good to know that they were not all like Malicos. 

As she watched Cal check over BD-1, gentle as if he were flesh and bone rather than metal and electrical current, she was very glad for that indeed. 

“Seems like it was a transmission,” Cal said, “Encrypted…” BD-1 trilled and beeped. “Hmm. One using Cordova’s encryption, which is why it could get through to BD like that.” 

“He didn’t share that with just anyone,” Cere said from where she stood leaning against a wall, “You couldn’t make anything out?” 

Cal shook his head and looked to Merrin. “Nothing,” she confirmed. 

“Who might have Cordova shared that encryption with?” 

“I’m going to guess Jedi,” Greez said, “You guys survived. Malak-whatever did, too. And those Inqusitors were Jedi once.” He crossed his arms. “Seems like a lot of Jedi wandering around when they’re supposed to be extinct.” 

“Good point,” Cere said, “It could be some contact of Cordova’s.” Her eyes had lit up brighter than they’d been since Cal had destroyed the holocron. Ah. Hope to restore her people. Merrin wondered what that felt like. “Could it be Cordova? If anyone could escape the Purge, it would be that wily old adventurer.” She gave a soft, affectionate smile to days gone by. 

Cal was silent. He ran a hand along BD-1’s head. “No,” he said quietly, “Cordova’s gone. I can tell. From the echoes here. They feel different when someone is dead.” He shut his eyes. Merrin got up impulsively. She reached for him but stopped short of touching him. “I think it was peaceful.” 

Cere dropped her eyes. “I know. I can feel it. I just keep _hoping_ .” She wiped at her eyes. “Well, then it’s someone Cordova trusted enough with his encryption.” 

“It was looping. It could be an automated transmission,” Merrin said. 

“Why now, though?” Cal asked, “Maybe something just got powered up that hadn’t been before. It’s intermittent, too.” 

Greez looked between the three of them and threw up his hands. “So much for an early evening. Cere, let’s go fire up the _Mantis_ ’ comm suite. It should be able to pick up on anything if there’s something to pick up.” He gestured to the still-disassembled comms equipment piled up nearby. “Since we haven’t put that junk together yet. _Jedi_. Always wanting to work after dinner.” 

Cere pushed off the wall. “You’re the one who came up with the idea, Captain.” 

“Yeah, yeah, but look who’s leading the way. You all would have sat up thinking yourselves in circles about it if I hadn’t said anything.” 

They bickered their way out the hermitage’s main doors, making their way across the complex set of bridges and ramps Cal and Merrin has set into place to give them easy access to the Mantis. 

Merrin looked at Cal, who was staring at BD-1. “Cal,” she said. He was going back to that place again. It was too easy on this planet for him, peaceful as it felt to her. If she had returned to Dathomir, to the mountains she’d called home, perhaps she would have gone there as often, too. “Do you have a…feeling?” She didn’t understand Jedi intuition. It was not something magick could do and it unsettled her, but it had come in use many times since she had joined the _Mantis_ crew. 

“No.” He blinked and looked up at her from where he sat. His gaze was lost, though he tried not to sound like it. “Probably a good sign, right?” 

“Perhaps. I do not trust in hope with this.” She hugged herself. “You are still hunted by the Inquisition. You destroyed their base and angered—” 

“Their master. Yeah.” He touched the spot on his chest where the one he called a Sith Lord had sent his own lightsaber through his chest. His eyes grew even more lost. “It could be a trap. I don’t know.” He rested his head against the workbench. “I can’t get a sense of it. Not while I’m here.” 

“Not here?” 

“I’ll explain next time we get off planet. It’s…strange.” He sat back up and rubbed his neck. “Promise you’ll believe me?” 

She shrugged. “I cannot think of any reason not to trust you, Cal Kestis.” 

He gave her tired smile. “Thank you, Merrin.” 

She pulled one of the chairs over. This place was a disorganized mess. She wondered if it could be made into a home. Likely not, if it bothered Cal so. Not Cal’s home, at least. “Cere hopes to rebuild the Jedi.” 

Cal sighed. “Some part of me does, too. A tired part. If there’s a group out there already, that’s better than starting from scratch. Greez is right. There’s a lot of surviving Jedi. Not a lot of friendly ones,” he admitted, “but we should find out. They might need our help.” 

Merrin suppressed a chuckle. How unlike the Dathomiri he was! Someone might need help, therefore he must help them if he can. It was not that her people where without compassion, but they were more calculating about it. Darthomir was harsh and weakness would bring down the whole coven. 

Or so she had been led to believe. 

“Hopefully they do not need a place to stay,” she said, “We have no more room, at least not on the Mantis.” 

Cal seemed to appreciate the turn of conversation and grew brighter, an impressive thing to do for someone with such brilliantly interesting hair. “That’s one thing about spending some time planet side. More room to stretch. A cot here isn’t a real bed, but it’s not right next to the _Mantis’_ engine.” 

“Or a couch.” 

“You could always take mine.” His cheeks colored. “Uh, we could switch, I mean.” 

“Perhaps.” She stretched, enjoying in a wicked way how Cal’s eyes followed her motions. “For now, I am off to my cot here.” She gestured down one of the shallow halls. “You should do so, as well. Ah, to your own.” She feels her own blush heat the cheeks beneath her markings. “Cere and Greez will wake us if they learn anything.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, good idea.” 

Merrin hurried away to her own bed. Somewhere across the large room, Cal used to Force to switch the lights off from his. She stripped away her robes in the dark, leaving her in her shirt and leggings, then curled up under the blankets and tried not to look over to where the glow of BD-1 shifted as Cal readied for sleep. 

This was an odd thing between them, quite unlike any experience she’d had before, or seen. Oh, she understood better now how some of her older sisters were towards the Nightbrother who’d won their favor...in the interests of _ever_ getting to sleep, she shoved that line of thought away. She had loved Ilyana, but perhaps that was a childish thing, in the end. This was not like that. The thought of Cal’s bare skin across the room made her twist and burn. His compassion moved her in a way no Nightsister’s display of cunning or Nightbrother’s brute courage could. She badly wished to run her fingers through his fiery hair. 

Merrin stared at the darkness of the wall, listening to Cal’s breathing and matching her own to it. It was the closest she could bring herself to going over to him. He was restless for a long time from the sound of it, but slowly, steadily, both of them drifted to sleep at the same time. 


	4. Chapter 4

“Alright, we’re here,” Greeze said, hitting a series of buttons, “Synchronous orbit above the big monster.” 

Cal looked to where BD-1 was perched on his console. “Anything?” 

The little droid shook his head. He perked his antenna up and looked out at the stars, waiting. 

“Hopefully they’ll transmit again,” Cere said, “We’ll never be able to triangulate the signal unless they do.” 

That made sense. Cere hadn’t found anything last night, apparently. They could only hope they could catch it again. It should be easier in orbit above the area where they’d received the transmission before with no atmospheric interference, though Cere had worried that the planet’s strong electromagnetic field would still garble the message. 

Greez shook his head. “Listen, if this doesn’t work out, I say we head to Nar Shadaa. We can pick up some supplies and some work that can buy more supplies.” 

“I thought we had plenty of food,” Merrin said. She was standing behind Cal in the cockpit. If he thought about that too long, he started to fidget. 

“For the next, what, sixty Coruscant days? Not that long.” 

Cal turned to see Cere roll her eyes. “It’s not a bad idea. We need credits soon enough, and the homestead on Bogano will need more wor—” 

BD-1 began rapidly beeping again, just like last time. They all huddled around the droid, waiting. 

His holoprojector sprung to life. This time, the image was clear, though it wavered badly. 

The tall human man wore Jedi robes, as well as battered bits of armor. His neatly trimmed gray beard made him any one of dozens of experienced Jedi knights. 

Cere drew a sharp breath, but said nothing. 

“Eno, you were right. Our day is done.” The hologram was not high quality, but Cal could see the weariness and sorrow on the man’s face. “I’ve done what I can…we’re the refugees now, my old friend. If you can, make your way to the _Wookie Gunner_. I can’t offer much of a sanctuary, but it is better than nothing.” With that, the transmission began to loop. 

“Jedi. I knew it,” Greeze said, “Better get a lock on the origin soon, synchronous orbit is hard to hold in this electromagnetic field and also as suspicious as a Jawa at a shipyard.” 

Cere shook her head. “Yes. Right.” She went back to the comms station. “Alright, got it.” She sat back. “You’re not going to like this.” 

The transmission stopped and BD-1 gratefully took his place on Cal’s shoulder. He patted the droid’s head. The signal must somehow be able to overload his functions. If for not other reason, they needed to find its origin so it would stop. 

“Of course I’m not going to like it,” Greez muttered. He and Cal joined Merrin at Cere’s comms station. The origin coordinates resolved on the readout and Greez let out a long strong of curses in several languages. 

Cal peered at the coordinates. “Is that…Ordo Eris? The Haxion Brood’s headquarters?” He had only seen the place’s underbelly, but he remembered it from looking at the ship’s nav data. 

“The one and only.” 

Greez started pacing, hands rubbing each other in agitation. “Do we have to do this? The Brood’s still got a bounty on our heads!” 

“ _Your_ head,” Cere said. 

The latero pointed at Cal. “And the kid’s!” 

Merrin looked between them all. “Am I missing something?” 

“Greez’s gambling debts landed him on the Haxion Brood’s druk-list. They kidnapped Cal for their for-profit arena fights as we were searching for the holocron. He fought his way out, we fought our way in, and we met in the middle.” 

“And they’ve had a bounty out for me ever since,” Cal added, “I ran into some of their hunters on Dathomir and Bogano.” 

“They are…not Imperial?” 

“Not when there’s a credit to be made, anyway,” Greez said, “They’re criminals, though the Empire shakes their hands often enough.” He resumed pacing and muttering. 

“I see,” Merrin said, “If they have more Jedi, they must be in grave danger.” 

Cal thought back to the fight in Sorc Tormo’s arena. It had been a dirty, desperate fight that he’d almost lost. If not for the sudden arrival of the _Mantis_ , he’d have been killed eventually. “Yeah. We have to go, Greez.” 

“No, we don’t,” Cere said, turning in her chair to look at him, “That wasn’t a Jedi, Cal.” 

He furrowed his brow. “He talked like—” 

“That was Altis. He was a master once. He had not been for a long, long time.” 

“Was he like Malicos?” Merrin asked. 

“I…maybe. He broke from the Council before I was even a Padawan.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe Master Cordova was friends with him. He was unconventional, yes, but to spend time with _Altis_ …” 

Cal frowned. He’d never heard of any of this. “What did he do?” 

“There were rumors of him opening doors to the Dark Side. He had many disciples, but his teaching method was unstructured and he took adult students.” Something in Cal’s expression must have been off, because she opened her hands. “Cal, there’s a reason we train people starting very young. It’s hard to learn the kind of self-control a Jedi needs in a chaotic environment.” 

“Yeah, I know.” Never mind that Cal, and many others, had received much of their training in the middle of a war. He let it go. He still didn’t know what to think of the Order and the war. “It’s just that…” He looked at Merrin, who raised an eyebrow. “I think we should take people as we find them, right now. And he had people with him, you said. They might need help.” 

Cere sat back in her chair and closed her eyes. It was as if she were meditating, but Cal’s sense of her in the Force was still that of a lamp hidden beneath a tightly woven basket. “Yes. You’re right.” 

Merrin interjected. “So we are going to break into the lair of Greez’s enemies—" 

“Hey! Ours!” 

She bowed her head to the captain. “Break into the lair of our enemies to find someone who may be an ally or may be an enemy as formidable as Malicos?” 

When you put it like that…Cal shrugged. “It’s better than hiding away forever on Bogano and smuggling power converters to Rim farms for credits.” 

Greez snorted. “Hiding away on Bogano _not getting shot at_.” 

“It won’t last forever,” Cal said, certain of that as he was of his next breath, “They’ll come. They always come.” 

Cere gave him a serious look. “It won’t be easy. I’m not sure it’s worth it.” 

“I just have one vote. BD-1? What do you think?” 

BD-1 popped up from where he was tucked on Cal’s shoulder to give an enthusiastic trill. 

Merrin nodded at him, smiling slightly. “I agree with Cal. Bogano will not stay safe.” She waved a hand dismissively. “Safety is an illusion, especially if you are a hiding prey animal. Even boglings know that. I would rather act to make a difference if there is a chance than wait for time to run out.” 

“Three against two?” Greez asked, “I guess we’ve already lost, Cere.” 

“Four against one,” Cere told him. Greez gaped at her. “They’re right. I’m not happy about it, but let’s face it: the Empire does know about Bogano. We are fugitives. If there’s any chance at rebuilding the Order, at striking back, then we should take it. Otherwise we are just waiting for the hammer to fall.” 

“You’re all crazy! Kriffed in the head! Do you know what we would have to do to get into Ordro Eris without getting blown into pieces?” He began counting off on his fingers. “We’d have to convince them we have enough money that they’d be better off fleecing us instead of killing us. We’d have to switch all of our ID codes to some other Stinger-class yacht’s, one with a believable history. We’d have to disguise ourselves, or at least me, convincingly enough to fool my great-grandmother. And we’d have to get someone in the underworld to vouch for us to actually attend the fights.” He threw his arms out. “And _that_ is just to get onto the station without getting killed!” 

Cere, Cal, Merrin, and BD-1 looked at each other for a long moment. “Let’s plot a course for Nar Shadaa,” Cere said, “I have some ideas.” 

Greez slouched. “You’re kidding. You can work all of that?” 

“It’s not any harder than anything we’ve done before.” She paused. “If you put it all together.” 

Greez stared at them for a moment. “Eh, well, you only live once. Nar Shadaa, coming up.” He swung himself into the pilot’s seat. “If we all die doing this, I’ll never forgive any of you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Altis is not my creation; he finds his roots in Legends, wherein lots of bad things could have been avoided if Anakin had joined his group when the chance was offered. The Altisian Jedi included one of Luke's many tragic ex-girlfriends, Callista. Altis' Jedi Order bore a lot of resemblance to Luke's New Jedi Order, which is funny because Luke was just making it all up as he went along.


	5. Chapter 5

Cal had never been to Nar Shadaa, though the place was well-known on Bracca. Nal Hutta, the planet the moon orbited, was a major hyperspace hub. While the Hutt homeworld was a toxic swamp, the moon of Nar Shadaa was as urban and diverse as Coruscant. 

Cal blinked as he stepped off the ship. The place teemed with life as much as Kashyyyk. The scents and sounds of city life made some part of him relax. It reminded him of home and safety. 

Not that Nar Shadaa was safe. 

Cere crossed her arms as Greez handed off a few extra credits to the bith who owned the landing pad. “Every time I’ve been here, I feel like someone is waiting to highjack my ship the moment I look away.” 

“Not today,” Greez said, coming back, “Or tomorrow. That bribe is taken care of. We’d better be out of here soon, though. Three days gets pricey.” One of his lower hands was resting on the large and flashy blaster holstered there. “There’s Imperial presence here, which is new. Keep a hood over your hair, kid.” 

Cal tugged the hood forward, checking on it. “I didn’t think the hutts let the Empire get a foothold on their worlds.” 

“It’s a token presence and not enough to make a real impact, or so the harbormaster there says. But that’s enough to cause us trouble.” 

“We’ll just have to be careful,” Cere said, “I hope we’re only here less than a day. I doubt that old slicer has changed his habits much.” 

“I’ve got some plans of my own to make,” Greez said, nodding at the Mantis, “If you’re going to handle the technical part, I’ve got to disguise her and good, plus polish up a few systems.” He rubbed his forehead. “I hate jobs like this. You got a name in mind? Hope you gave it to the harbormaster on our way down.” 

Cere pulled out a small handheld holoprojector and activated it. A ship that looked like the _Mantis_ flicked up. “The _Corusca Idyllwild_. Hails out of Alderaan, or it did, the ship of a successful property developer there. She was lost with all hands on the Rim during a pleasure cruise two standard years ago. It won’t take much to ensure the records show her as transferred to a successful latero businessman in order to fulfill a gambling debt.” 

Greez peered thoughtfully at the hologram. “Standard configuration, no extra bells and whistles. What name. _Idyllwyld_. Poor ship.” 

“Standard. Except one thing.” 

Greez looked at her. “I’m not going to like this, am I?” 

“She was painted bright, metallic purple.” 

Greez dropped his arms. “Really?” Cere just looked at him. “Alright, alright. That’s the last of my spare credits gone.” 

“Sorry.” Cere looked to Cal and Merrin. “I need you two with me. Let’s make sure you blend in before we head out. Merrin, I’ve got a few old things for you, I think. Cal, bring a blaster.” She and Merrin headed back into the ship. Cal followed Merrin as she moved. Her eyes slipped to him and he caught a slight blush on her pale grey cheeks. 

“Kid,” Greez said, “Hey, kid!” 

Cal looked back to the latero. “Sorry.” 

He rolled his eyes. “No stains on the couch. Also, I don’t want to hear _anything_. At all. Come on, let’s see what I’ve got in my disguise locker and you can help me pick out the most offensively purple paint on the local holonet to slap on my ship.” He sighed and stroked the _Mantis_ ’ hull as they went in. “ _Idyllwild_. _Corusca Idyllwild_ , at that. Tasteless.” 

Greez’s disguise locker didn’t offer Cal too much, though he opted to take a clunky old rebreather that hid the lower half of his face. Combined with an old brown poncho with a large hood that he kept pulled up and forward, it was hard to tell his _species_ unless you looked right into his face. He strapped on a blaster to complete the look. 

BD-1 refused to be left behind, though Cal persuaded him to hand out at his side rather than his back. It was awkward, but so was the rebreather. Getting killed by the Brood or the Empire would be worse. 

Cere and Merrin took a bit longer, leaving Cal to try and wait quietly outside the ship’s ramp. He tried to get into a more meditative frame of mind, but it kept getting interrupted by thoughts of Merrin’s eyes, the feel of her hand on his face…well, it was better than thinking about the Vault mirror. 

“Alright,” Cere said, almost bouncing down the ramp, “Let’s go.” She was wearing a larger jacket and some kind of head wrap. 

Behind her, Merrin’s hair had bene pulled into a simple tail. Instead of her rich reds, she was dressed in pale garys. It was a strange look, one that made her more exotic, not less. 

Cal narrowed his eyes an suppressed a grin as he looked her outfit over. “Is that one of my ponchos?” 

She flicked the end of it defiantly. “You were not using it.” Well, he couldn’t deny that. It had been belted around her lean waist, which he liked. She moved to look at him more closely. “Well, no one will recognize you with that ridiculous thing on your face. Can you breathe very well?” 

He shrugged. “Same as with any other rebreather, though I think it needs a good cleaning.” The thing stank vaguely of oil. 

Cere observed his disguise and nodded. “Good job, Cal. Keep your head down if you can, avoid speaking. You might be any species if they can’t see your face. Come on. Let’s get to Alog’s old watering hole and get this finished.” 

*** 

Merrin had worried that the pale outfit would make her stand out, but it quickly became clear that standing out on Nar Shadaa would require far more than perhaps even an open display of magick. 

This city world was grimy and old, but it was also clearly alive. People of all kinds could be seen on the streets, selling their wares, walking to somewhere, or simply lurking on street corners. Dancers writhed in the front windows of clubs and holoprojectors showed gladiator fights in the middle of tight huddles of beings. Most, if not all were visibly armed, but there was no open violence on the streets. Signs and fliers could be found on many walls, some in strange languages. 

It was fascinating. Cere had no interest in lingering to see the sights, however, and led them through several twisting back alleys and vast walkways. 

“No stormtroopers,” whispered Cal to her as they crossed a wide bridge over a yawning abyss, “So far so good.” 

“Plenty of trouble, though.” She nodded, subtly, to a man with a Haxion Brood mark on an armband as he passed. “I think it’s only the beginning.” 

“Yeah, we’re about to walk into a kath hound den.” He shifted his shoulders. “It can’t be worse than the fortress.” 

She refused to believe it could. Cal had come very close to dying there. 

Cere led them to a cantina that seemed to be built in the hull of an ancient ship. She nodded to the gammorrean bouncer and he waved them in, bored. 

Merrin glanced at the name stenciled on the entryway as they passed it: Ebon Rest. 

Cal grew tense at her side for a moment, then forcibly relaxed. He shook his head when she looked at him. 

Merrin had never been in a cantina before. She was not sure that Ebon Rest was a typical one. The gutted starship was small, but seats had been crammed in wherever they could be. The bar extended out from the cockpit. It was not very full, but the patron’s around them were quiet sorts. None seemed to be Haxion Brood, or at least none wore their mark. 

Cere found who she was looking for and made her way to a booth tucked into a shadowy corner. A lean, aging alien, of the kind called twi’lek, looked up from his handheld terminal. “Cere,” he said in a tough voice. He looked to have some sort of implant in his blue throat. “Well.” He nodded to Merrin and Cal. “I know the sort of job you offer, so it’s best to keep some eyes on the door, especially these days.” 

Cere raised an eyebrow and slid into the seat across from the twi’lek. “You know the kind of job I offer, but you’re still willing to talk about it? These strange days must be affecting you differently than I thought, Alog.” 

He smiled viciously with pointed teeth. “You have no idea.” 

Cere smiled back. “Keep a lookout,” she told the younger pair, “Especially for our usual trouble.” She settled in to talk quietly with the slicer. 

Merrin led Cal to a nearby table with a clear view of the door. A harried human waitress stopped by to take a drink order. “Tanabian whskey,” Merrin said, naming one of the few liquors she was familiar with, thanks to Greez. Cal held up two fingers when the waitress looked to him. She bustled off and dropped their drinks at the table in a few moments on her way to another table. 

“Will you drink through the rebreather?” Merrin asked. 

He chuckled quietly and gently pulled the mask off. “I’m glad those things aren’t what we use anymore. I think the oily smell is actually just the way they are.” He rubbed at his face. “Hurts after awhile, too.” He sighed and took a sip of his drink. “Rough stuff, ugh.” 

Merrin took an experimental sip. It was, but no worse than most of the liquors they had distilled on Dathomir. Certainly rougher than anything Greez would have allowed on his ship. “Is this a normal cantina?” 

“No. Most are a lot noisier. And not built in a ship.” Carefully he reached out to touch a nearby bulkhead. “Any that are, they aren’t built in anything like _this_ ship.” 

“An echo?” 

“Strong ones. But old. Very old.” He dropped his hand from the bulkhead. “Millenia.” 

Merrin looked at the building with renewed interest. Starships were made to endure the harshest conditions of space and hyperspace while keeping those inside protected. It should be no surprise that the hull could endure for thousands of years. 

The red and brown walls certainly did not look special. But the way Cal was looking at them said they had witnessed something impressive. 

“Heroes and villains lived here,” he said quietly, “Some people who were both. This ship decided the fate of the galaxy more than once. It went to far and secret places…it’s all forgotten. Ancient history.” He sighed. “I guess I’m the only one who knows now.” 

She raised an eyebrow. “You did just tell me.” 

He chuckled and took another sip. “I did. The two of us, then.” BD-1 gave a small squawk from somewhere under Cal’s chair. “Three of us.” 

Merrin rested a hand on Cal’s. They sat watching the door in peaceful silence. The ancient hull hummed with the cantina’s electronics and she thought perhaps she could get a sense of the history Cal spoke of. 

Cere was whispering hurriedly to the slicer, who responded with interest, rubbing his chin, his head tails twitching slightly. This was not a busy place, but there was a steady murmur of quiet conversation. Merrin felt as though they were not the only ones making deals here. 

All of the sound fell silent when two figures in white armor walked in. 

The stormtroopers moved through the tables like nydaks on the hunt. Cal had put his rebreather mask back on. His hood was low, but like everyone else, he followed the troopers’ movements towards the bar. 

The higher-ranking trooper, identified by his orange shoulder armor, slapped the bar. “Permits,” he said to the bartender. The human behind the bar, his face schooled to absolute neutrality, pulled out a few sheets of flimsy and handed them to the trooper. The Imperial looked through them and tossed them back. He seemed frustrated. The pair stalked back out. 

Conversation took a few minutes to resume. Cere and Alog paid their tab ad slipped out of their seat. Cere stopped by Cal and Merrin. “I paid,” she said, “Let’s go. Alog has a plan to get us what we need. You two have a role to play and it needs to be done yesterday.” 

Cal stood, pausing a moment to shift BD-1 to his hip. “Why do I have a bad feeling about this?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, that ship is the on you're thinking of.


	6. Chapter 6

“You sent them to do _what_?” 

“We need them to do it, Captain,” Cere said, affecting a clam she didn’t feel, “Otherwise we will not get anywhere near Ordo Eris.” 

Greez gave her a flat look. “And wouldn’t that just break my heart.” He shook his head. “Those kids better come back in one piece.” 

“An Imperial outpost on Nar Shadaa isn’t exactly Nur.” That’s what she kept telling herself. “Cal and Merrin can handle it.” 

Greez slammed a fist on the table, rattling the bowls that held their dinner. “Slicers always do this. ‘Oh, I’m great, no code can defeat me, I can access any network, fake any IFF…except I need physical access to the system.’ And you pay them for the privilege of risking your own neck.” He scooped up some noodles and shoved them into his mouth viciously. 

“Did you make any for Cal and Merrin?” 

Greez swallowed his meal with relish. “Of course I did. _I’m_ not the monster around here.” 

Cere rolled her eyes. 

*** 

This was much easier with Merrin’s cloaking. Cal wished he’d had her with him when trying to get into the Tomb of Miktrull. He’d have had a few less blaster burns. 

They passed invisibly under the Imperial outpost; not even Merrin’s powers would have gotten them through the front gates. Nar Shadaa was as densely layered as Coruscant, though the tunnels got darker and wilder much sooner below the surface level. 

Merrin frowned at the corpse of the large spider creature Cal had just killed. “I did not expect such a thing here.” 

Cal switched off his lightsaber. The monster was smaller than a wyyyshock, leaner, and beneath the still-glowing saber cuts he was pretty sure its eyes were non-functional. It must hunt by following heat or sound. That must be how it found them through the cloaking. It used a wyyyshock’s methods, though, and tried to ambush them from above. “Spiders are found on just about every planet I’ve ever been on,” he said, “These tunnels are old and anyone who lives here is long one. Makes sense the wildlife moved in.” 

She shook her head. “I never cared for spiders.” Her eyes half-shut in concentration and she gestured around them. A small veil of green fire briefly washed over the pair and Cal could feel the strange tingle of magick settle over his skin. Cloaked once again. “As you can imagine, it made parts of Dathomir unwelcoming.” 

He thought of the bane back spiders he’d found lurking all over. “So most of it then?” 

She quirked a wonderful smile. “You understand why I did not choose to linger when you offered to take me with you.” 

Cal eyed the tunnel thoughtfully. They were headed in the right direction of the chasm that bordered the outpost. There was probably a gap, or at least a weak spot, close by. “I thought it might be my charm.” He felt his face grow hot as soon as he said it an was grateful for the near-darkness of the undercity tunnels. 

“Only a little.” 

This would be a terrible place to kiss her. “Uh…this way. We should be close to the edge.” 

BD-1 gave an affirmative beep. 

They made their way through the gloom, almost hand-in-hand, and kept an eye out in all directions. This place had been lively once, but now it was silent as an ancient tomb. Which it was, really. They had passed a few piles old bones and a few newer ones more than once. These tunnels were hundreds if not thousands of years old. Nar Shadaa never hid that, unlike Coruscant. 

Cal sensed something ahead and slowed down. The smell hit a step later, a stink that changed the dusty, stale air of the tunnel into something nearly toxic. Cal had smelled plenty of dead things before, but this was something else. 

Merrin frowned. She drew the blaster at her hip. If she attempted to work another spell, their invisibility would stop. 

They moved slowly through the gloom. A lump against the wall became a huge, fuzzy animal as they approached. The smell grew stronger, but it didn’t move. It didn’t even breathe. 

There was life here, a vicious snarling life, Cal could sense it. He unclipped his lightsaber from his belt. 

The lump jerked once and a narrow, reptilian head poked out over it, massive ears scanning. Blood dripped from jagged oversized teeth. A pair of wickedly clawed hands reached over the fur and dragged the rest of the creature froward and over the corpse. 

It was bipedal and vaguely humanoid, though if it was sentient or not, Cal couldn’t tell. The eyes were blank yellow orbs with no pupil or white. The huge ears swiveled rapidly and the flat nose twitched. The way it squatted on the large furry body was animalistic. 

Merrin and Cal exchanged a glance. Cal put a finger to his lips and shut his eyes, reaching out through the Force. 

He had never been particularly good at this. Maybe it was more a lack of practice than anything; droid minds couldn’t be touched through the Force and he’d done most of his training while fighting them during the Clone Wars. 

The feel of the creature was fuzzy. Beside him was Merrin’s fiery fighting spirit. Nar Shadda’s vibrance hummed all around. Cal forced himself to narrow his focus down to the creature in front of them. 

It _was_ a fuzzy mind, which didn’t help. He was a sentient, but all that remained of a mind was name: Vemt. He was a broken ragged thing, utterly feral. And hostile. And hunting. 

Cal opened his eyes and lifted the hilt of his lightsaber, nodding at Merrin. She nodded back and spread her hands wide. 

The cloak dropped and Cal ignited his lightsaber. 

Vemt shrieked at the sight of them and leapt…not at them, but towards a wall. 

Merrin threw a fireball at him where he landed, claws digging into ferrocrete, but Vemt scurried out of the way with incredible speed. The creature clung to a corner, staring at them with its nacreous eyes, and shifting ever so slightly. 

Cal pulled with the Force, dragging Vemt from the wall. He shrieked and twisted, breaking Cal’s hold to land on the ground. With his feet under him, he charged Cal, drawn by the lightsaber’s glow. 

He struck at him, but the strange bring threw himself totally flat. A clawed hand lashed out as Cal’s strike missed and swiped his legs out from under him. The cuts the claws left burned unpleasantly. Vemt raised itself to its knees and gave a blowing hiss as it reached to strike again… 

BD-1 jumped forward with a valiant scream and shocked him. The creature bent backwards as its muscles bunched up. 

Before he could recover, green fire engulfed the scaled form. Vemt howled for a brief moment, and then his charred unrecognizable corpse toppled to the ground. 

Cal stared at the body. He hadn’t been in combat since the encounter with the Sith Lord. 

Merrin stepped over the body and reached out a hand. He took it gratefully and she pulled him to his feet as he shut off his lightsaber. “Thanks,” he said, looking at the body, “He wasn’t always like that. Being isolated down here…turned him into that.” 

“Ah. Then that was a mercy.” She leaned against him, exhausted from her spell. “It happens sometimes on Dathomir. A Nightbrother will be lost and will be found, years later, little more than a beast.” 

Cal wasn’t sure that setting the poor ceature on sire was a mercy, but he would take that over being gutted. He winced as the adrenaline rush began to die away. The slashes on his ankle had begun to really sting. BD-1 one beeped. “Thanks to you, too, buddy,” Cal said, patting the droid on the head. He gave an affirmative noise and popped out a healing stim into Cal’s hand. “Always know what needs to be done, don’t you?” 

Merrin moved to look at whatever Vemt had been eating and Cal injected himself in the ankle with the stim. The sting faded quickly. He followed her to the furry body with a vanishing limp. 

“That,” Merrin said, “is a very large rodent.” 

It was. While mostly it was covered in fur, the front part of it also had armor plates. Cal couldn’t see a any killing mark on it and wondered if Vemt had only been scavenging a carcass or if his claws were venomous and not just dirty. He even more grateful for the healing stim. “Glad we didn’t have to fight it.” 

“Not least because it would have been loud enough for the Empire to notice,” Merrin added, “I need time to be able to cloak us again. It’s exhausting to channel so much magick at once.” She scowled at her hands. “For me. If I had been fully trained…” 

Cal lightly knocked her shoulder with his. “I wasn’t either. I thought you did great, speaking as the guy whose skin you saved.” She gave him a small smile. “It’s not far to the edge now. We won’t need to cloak anyways until we get close to the outpost.” 

He used his lightsaber to lead them through the gloom. As the tunnel ended, BD-1 leapt off Cal’s back and started scanning. He gave a musical series of notes, jumping up and down. 

Merrin frowned at the wall. “Here?” 

“Here,” Cal answered. It would take a big push, but if BD-1 said it was a weak spot, it was a weak spot. He took a deep breath, focusing… 

He threw both hands forward to the wall and pushed with the Force. The wall collapsed as if it were made of dust. The debris tumbled down into an urban abyss. 

Cal hoped that the noise was lost in the riot of sound that was Nar Shadaa. He stuck his head out the hole. The wall above was not smooth and he could handle it easily with climbing claws. According to the map Alog had given them, there was a landing bay above used for supply shuttles. “Easier than the Shadowlands,” he told a dubious BD-1, “No plants are trying to eat us.” 

The droid gave an enthusiastic affirmative. 

Merrin joined him at the gap. “Even with me on your back?” 

He had put that part of the plan to the back of his mind. He wouldn’t have any trouble with Merrin’s weight- at the age of twelve, he’d carried a Separatist holotransmitter up a canyon wall once and dragged clone soldiers from danger on several occasions-but the idea was distracting. “Yeah,” he said, concentrating on his breathing, “Just keep still.” 

She nodded, carefully not looking at him. “When I was younger, I could have outpaced you.” She stared ruefully up the wall. “With magick, those skills had no use anymore. At least in Dathomir.” She shook her head. “Whenever you are ready, Cal.” 

He nodded and adjusted the climbing claws on his hands before clambering out onto the wall. Once his grip was secure, he reached out to help Merrin onto his back. 

He paused while she settled her grip and BD-1 used his head as a place to wait until he could cling to her back. If they had not been clinging to a wall above a bottomless pit, he would have been more distracted by her arms and legs wrapping around him. As it were, he was slightly distracted. Bottomless pits were good for focusing one’s mind. Master Tapal would have approved of that lesson. 

Once everyone was settled, he started climbing, feeling for his handholds with the Force. Merrin remained incredibly still, though not stiff. They moved faster then he expected and were soon near the edge of the landing bay. 

Something made Cal freeze just before he reached it, tensing, which caused Merrin to tense, too. 

The wall rattled as a set of engines fired up above. Cal locked his grip tight as a shuttle came rumbling out of the landing bay right above them. 

So there were probably Imperials up there. He closed his eyes and tried to sense for lifeforms. Four…five humans, bored, slightly annoyed, doing something. No telling if there were droids, but there probably were. The outpost wasn’t heavily staffed, so droids would be used to handle some normal operations. 

Cal waited a moment to be sure of where the Imperials were, then dragged them all up to the landing bay. Merrin slid off his back and tucked herself behind the nearest stack of crates. Cal followed suit with BD-1 settled once again on his shoulders. 

They peered over the crates to watch a stormtrooper kick an old, wheeled cart in anger. “Come on you stupid thing!” 

“Getting into arguments with inanimate objects again?” another asked, getting a helmeted glare in return. 

“You can take your opinion and...” The conversation cut off as a door shut behind the troopers. 

Cal turned to consult the map of the facility BD-1 had uploaded. They only needed to get to a terminal, any terminal, that linked directly to the Imperial databases. According to Alog, that should be every single one in the outpost. There was probably one near the landing bay, though he couldn’t see one in it. 

“Alright, looks like we have to go in. Got that data ready?” He asked BD-1. 

“ _Beep-beep._ ” 

“Good.” He took a deep breath, then nodded to Merrin. The feeling of the cloaking spell rippled over them once again. “Keep an eye out for a terminal. The sooner we get out of here, the better.” 

She nodded and they moved quietly towards the door the troopers had gone in. BD-1 opened the door. 

Right in the face of the stormtrooper with the cart. “What?” the Imperial shouted, pulling his blaster. He scanned the bay, looking right through Cal and Merrin. “Buggy kriffing system…” he muttered after a moment, holstering his blaster. 

Cal and Merrin threw themselves out of the topper’s way as he pushed the cart into the bay. The noise made the trooper pause for a moment, looking around, but he shrugged and began loading crates onto his cart. Cal wished desperately he’d learned some of the mental tricks he’d seen other Jedi use. 

They hurried through the door before it shut again. Cal followed his intuition to a doorway and peered inside. 

It was ground control for the shuttle bay. Transparisteel windows stared out into the empty bay. Several screens featured slowly scrolling information. A bored, grey uniformed Imperial officer sipped caf in one chair, staring listlessly at a screen. 

They needed him gone. Accessing the terminal was not going to be subtle. 

Merrin braced to toss a fireball, but Cal grabbed her hand. He shook her head when she looked at him, his mind racing. They needed to keep their presence hidden so that no one would look too closely at uploads from the outpost to the Imperial databases. A dead body would definitely bring that kind of attention. 

Cal looked to BD-1. “Can you find any inactive droids in the landing bay?” he whispered as quietly as he could. 

The droid connected to a nearby wall socket. It wouldn’t get him to the terminal but now he could interface with the local system. He bobbed his head at Cal after a moment. 

“Hack them so they start causing trouble.’ 

With another head bob, BD-1 set to it. 

A moment later, astromech droids shot out into the landing bay, shrieking and flailing with everything they had. The stormtrooper loading crates was bowled over and the cargo was scattered. 

The Imp officer gaped at the scene for a moment, then attempted to access the system. BD-1 was good at what he did; he’d blocked access. The Imp gave up and rushed outside, blaster in hand. 

“We only have a few minutes,” Merrin told BD-1 as the droid hopped up onto the console, “Then we have to get out.” 

“Not the way we came,” Cal said, watching as troopers rushed into the landing bay and began firing wildly. 

“They won’t between us and the front door, then.” 

True. Cal leaned over BD-1 to look at the main screen. He was uploading Alog’s file to the Imperial systems now, creating an official history of the _Corusca Idyllwild_ and its most recent shady smuggler captain. Alog had assured Cere that it would hold up under serious scrutiny, though the sooner they got their job done, the better. 

BD-1 gave a triumphant little song, retuned the station to its earlier state, and hopped onto Cal’s shoulder. “Onward and upward,” Cal said, laughing, “Or downward. Let’s get out of here.” 

The stormtroopers in the bay had started firing at the wayward droids. Definitely time to go. 

Merrin took a moment to renew her spell as Cal had BD-1 pull up schematics for the outpost. It really was a small facility. “Looks like just one turn between here and the exit, which is a turbolift down to street level.” 

The Nightsister looked over the map. “I can hold the spell that long. Not longer.” 

“Let’s go, then.” 

They hurried out into the main hall, standing aside as an Imperial officer came running down the corridor to the control room, teeth gritted. Good timing. 

An alarm started sounding, but most of the outpost staff seemed to be at the landing bay already. They only encountered a security droid stomping out its routine patrol as if nothing had happened. It must have heard them, because it stopped, but they didn’t pause to give it a chance to run a deeper scan. They bolted to the turbolift. 

Merrin shut her eyes as soon as the door shut. Cal touched her shoulder and she leaned into him. “I can hold it past any guards.” 

“We’ll run for the crowd on the street. You can drop it there. Nar Shadaa isn’t the kind of place anyone will really notice us just appearing.” 

The elevator doo opened to two stormtroopers pointing at it with blasters. “No one’s here,” one said. 

“Probably had to go answer the alarm upstairs. I guess the droids all went haywire. That’s what we get for trying to get a foothold in this slimepit.” 

Cal half-carried Merrin out of the turbolift and into the busy street. It wasn’t as crowded as many other walkways in Nar Shadaa- probably because no one would want to draw Imperial attention- but it would have to work. “Drop it,” Cal told Merrin, “We’re clear, you can drop it.” 

She nodded and sagged against him, the cloaking spell falling away. A passing trandoshan gave them a look as he passed, but didn’t pause or speak. Cal flipped up his hood. 

Merrin sighed into Cal’s shoulder. “Well, that is done.” 

BD-1 backed her up with a weary trill. 

“Is it usually like this when you leave the ship?” she asked. 

“More climbing and getting shot at.” 

Merrin grinned and regained her feet. “I’m sure it will go back to normal soon. Let’s head back to the ship.” 

As they moved through the crowd, she slipped her hand into Cal’s. 


	7. Chapter 7

Greez tugged on his gold jacket. “This thing itches,” he grumbled. 

Cere glanced over at him from her console. “Put the eyepatch on, captain.” 

The latero frowned. “I hate the eyepatch.” 

“Which is why you’re going to wear it because until we are five systems away from Ordo Eris, you aren’t you.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” He fished the eyepatch out of a jacket pocket and slid it over his head. “The first time I have to shoot something, it’s coming off.” 

Merrin, covering for Greeze while he had gone to get his disguise on, thought this was sensible. She wasn’t sure how effective the disguise was. The latero was recognizable to her- but then again, she’d never seen another one of his species. 

She had felt the same about the _Mantis_ , which had been repainted blindingly purple by the time she and Cal had made their way back to the ship. It was a color she had never imagined could exist and its only possible use as a disguise was that it distracted the viewer from all other details. 

Cere was likewise now covered in purple, though a less violent shade. Her uniform was purple with gold trim, cut like an Imperial naval officer’s, she said, the better to sell the story of Greez as a ‘high-roller’. 

“Ten minutes until we drop out of hyperspace.” 

“Right.” Greez took his spot and stretched. “Security will be tighter now after our little stunt earlier. We got the right IFF code going?” 

Cere stared at him for a moment. “Since we left Nar Shadaa.” 

Greez threw up his hands. “Just nervous, that’s all.” He readjusted his eyepatch. He turned to Merrin. “Better go get into character. Let the kid know we’re not far out.” 

Merrin moved towards the back of the ship, absently patting BD-1 on the head as he observed the ship’s terrarium. Everyone but the little droid was tense, though perhaps the way he was scanning plants he saw every day was a sign of stress. 

She found Cal meditating, already shrouded in the heavy red cloak. No rebreather mask for him, this time, just a closely bound hood that would hide his distinctive hair and could be pulled around to shroud the bottom half of his face. Cere was not a fan of using the same disguise twice. 

Merrin had little to do but don her own red cloak. She did so and dropped down to his side, observing him. He was more at peace, this time around, though the tension was still there. 

She traced his profile with her eyes. How unlike anyone else he was, at least to her. Gentle, but far from weak. He had told her once that he’d kill her if she got in his way. It had not been a threat. Malicos had, and Cal had ended him. He might well have been able to do it without her interference. 

Though likely with more scars. He had so many. It made her proud that she had spared him more. 

She touched his shoulder gently. He opened his eyes immediately and smiled softly at her. “We’re dropping out of hyperspace?” 

She nodded. “Cere made Greez put on an eyepatch.” 

His smile widened into a grin. It was not a frequent expression on his face and it prompted her to mirror it. “This I need to see.” He stood and helped her up, his hand lingering on hers, the contact leaving traces of fire. 

She should do something about this. She almost felt her Sisters pushing her to do so, though perhaps that was her imagination. 

Not, however, right now. She did not want Cere or Greez to come looking for them and find…ah, well. It would be embarrassing. 

They headed up to the cockpit. Cal paused half a step when Greez turned to look at them, his shoulders shaking with a surpressed laugh. “Nice touch, Breezy Greezy,” he said. 

“Ha ha.” One of Greez’s lower hands pointed at Cal. “That’s Mr. Talis to you, kid, from here on out. And no more commentary on the eye patch!” He reached up to adjust said accessory. 

“Stop fiddling with that,” Cere said. 

With a jolt, they dopped out of hyperspace. Merrin had been told that Ordo Eris was found in a cold ring of asteroids, but the desolated rubble was still surprising. The systems sun was a weak thing. Closer, and seemingly brighter was the fortress itself, its central spire thrusting upward out of the hot heart of a hollowed planetoid. 

“We’re getting pinged,” Cere said, listening over a headset. Everyone tensed. “Validating IFF…Ordro Eris control, this is the _Corsuca Idyllwild_ , we read you…Captain Muurc Talis would like to make good on recent shipping windfalls…” She froze for a long moment. “Roger, we will prepare for boarding and inspection. _Idyllwild_ out.” She ripped the headset off. “They’re coming on board. They’ve got weapons platform all over the asteroid field locked on us already, so unless we want to die, they’re coming on board.” 

Greez bared his teeth. “Never simple.” 

Cere tugged on a purple officer’s cap. “Cal, get to the back. Take Merrin with you. You two are body guards, not ship’s staff, and Captain Talis is not the friendly type like our Greez.” 

Greez rolled his eyes. “Keep your face hidden. The Haxion Brood knows you from every angle, and that’s without the Imperial bounty in the mix.” A sleek silver shuttle came cruising towards them from behind an asteroid. Merrin watched, mesmerized by its lonely shape. “Quick.” 

Cal grabbed Merrin’s hand and she followed him to the back of the ship. They sat on his bunk, waiting and listening. 

The clunk of the docking shuttle made the _Mantis_ shudder. The _Mantis_ ’ engine noise hid any conversation, though she doubted it could hide the sound of blaster bolts. 

BD-1 peeked up from under Cal’s bunk and made a quiet curious noise. Cal shook his head and waved him back under. He was a secret weapon when it came to exploring Ordo Eris for the _Wookie Gunner_. They didn’t want the Haxion Brood fitting him with a restraining bolt. 

“…She’s a fine ship, isn’t she? Lovely color,” Greez said from down the hallway, raising his voice, “This way to the engine and my bodyguards’ quarters. You can get a look at their faces for your security officer’s peace of mind and we can get to the arena.” 

Merrin and Cal looked at each other with wide eyes. What was there to do? They would know Cal on sight, or their officer would. 

Merrin made a decision. It might not work. But it was what she had. 

She reached out and pulled Cal’s face to hers. 

It was not a perfect kiss. His shock froze him and Merrin could hardly breathe at her own boldness. They heard boots coming down the hall, with Greez chattering about fight odds, delaying. 

Cal shifted finally and pulled her closer, clumsily deepening the kiss. Merrin shivered and looped her arms around his neck, pulling in her own turn. 

He tasted like…like he thought heat might taste, like sunlight on Bogano or Kashyyyk. She laced the fingers of one hand in his hair and marveled at its texture. Cal groaned quietly into her mouth. 

“Ah!” Greez shouted from somewhere behind Cal. A part of Merrin, the only part not utterly consumed by the heat of Cal, noted that he seemed actually shocked. “Again?” he said, recovering. cracked opened one eye to see him glaring with his hands on his hip. A human and a twi’lek were leering at the pair from behind him. “Nothing for it, we won’t see them for a bit.” Greez turned on heel. The Haxion Brood members followed him, eyes lingering on the couple until they were gone from the room. “If bodyguards from that tribe wasn’t so lethal, let me tell you…” 

Merrin and Cal broke apart, breathing heavily, their arms still around each other. Cal’s face was nearly as red as his hair. 

Merrin dropped her eyes. “Forgive me, I couldn’t think of anything else.” 

Cal lifted a hand up and pulled her face back to his. The kiss was more natural, but shorter, though it caused heat to curl in her belly. “Don’t apologize,” he said, his voice husky. He rested his forehead against hers. His green eyes were full of joy and something wonderfully wild, something that she had not seen burning there before. “I…I’ve been meaning to figure out when to do that.” 

She retuned the expression. “I hope your plan was while hiding from the Haxion Brood.” 

His smile grew into a grin and he curled a lock of her hair around his fingers wonderingly. “I’m not really picky.” 

BD-1 hopped onto the bed and looked between them. Almost smugly, he hopped over to the workbench to keep watch. Cal and Merrin sat in their embrace until the _Mantis_ shivered again as the shuttle released its docking ring. 

They untangled reluctantly and headed towards the cockpit. Cere glanced at them, then away swiftly. “We have clearance to dock. Follow the coordinates, Captain.” 

Greez had been staring at the smugly, like he’d just won a bet, and turned away when Merrin caught him at it. He started the ship on its course. “Good. That’s the hardest part. They’re a lot of people at the arena when the games are happening, real high rollers. We’re small fry, and not the strangest of the bunch. We’ll be able to disappear with no worries about a spotlight.” 

“You’ve been here before?” Cal asked, taking his seat in the copilot’s chair with a lingering glance at Merrin. She took the jumpseat. 

“Just the one time, if you’ll remember,” he said, “But I know how the Brood does business.” 

“Our previous adventure didn’t change too many of their security protocols on station,” Cere added, “Since everything you did, Cal, was according to plan.” 

“Sorc Tormo is a smart one,” Greez said. The massive spire of Ordo Eris loomed closer and closer. “we need to get this done with as soon as possible.” He looked back at Cere. “Hopefully your old not-friend is one of the civilians who live here, not a prisoner.” 

She was silent a moment. “Hopefully. I’m not betting on it. Someone has the _Wookie Gunner_ and was switching the beacon on and off. We find the ship, then we use that to find out where Altis is.” 

Greez nodded, starting on his pre-landing checks. Merrin watched curiously as she always did and tried very hard not to look at Cal again. “That’s the plan,” Greez said, “Maybe our luck will hold for once and we can stick to it.” 


	8. Chapter 8

Greez had been right about the crowd. 

It was like Nar Shadaa, but far richer. It reminded Cal of some of the nicer districts of Coruscant, though everyone moved much more leisurely here. There was business going on, but there was whole lot more pleasure going on. 

Cal and Merrin flanked Greez as a Haxion Brood lackey led them to the suites he had just paid for with a big fistful of credits. The hallways here didn’t resemble the planetoid’s underbelly at all. Instead of crude stone tunnels, the halls were made of carefully carved marble with carpeted floors. Art from around the galaxy sat in little niches, the only unifying theme was how clearly expensive the pieces were. 

They weren’t going to find the _Wookie Gunner_ here. Cal’s first instinct was to break off, find the secret paths the Brood used to move around the asteroid, but that wasn’t the plan. This wasn’t some Outer Rim Imperial outpost being decommissioned with a skeletal garrison. It wasn’t even a secret fortress with minimal manning. It was the heart of a criminal organization and its associates, all armed to the teeth. 

And paranoid. Cal had tried to search for Jedi through the Force when they landed and ran into a wall of paranoia coming from the entire station. 

Cere opted to stay with the ship, keeping an eye on it and the comms traffic, so it was Cal, Merrin, and Greez headed into the belly of the beast. BD-1 is hiding in the luggage following them on a hovering repulsorlift. He, with Cere, would sweep the room for bugs once they got there, then remove them. That was when they would know if things were working 

Cal and Merrin watched the halls with their faces half-covered, a matching pair of exotic bodyguards. Not particularly exotic around here, though; they’d passed a bar where a fat sullustan was getting very drunk under the watchful helm of a Mandalorian. Hidden faces drew no attention on Ordo Eris. 

It gave him hope that they might find Altis and his disciples as free people, not prisoners. 

They turned a corner into a narrow but still sumptuous hallway and their guide halted at a nearby door. It slid open when he waved a card in front of it. “Your rooms, Captain Talis.” He handed the latero the card. 

Greeze snatched it from him, then nodded to Cal and Merrin. They entered first and swept around the suite. It was no more dangerous than the rest of Ordo Eris, but they had to make a show of it. The large main room was connected through a door to a bedroom with a huge bed and a view of some grand internal chamber of the planetoid, teeming with lights and busy beings far below. An equally lavish refresher was attached to it. Nearer to the front door was a small, pleasant but utilitarian bedroom for personal staff. 

Cal nodded to Greez when they finished and he entered, hands on his hips as he surveyed the suite. “Not exactly Cloud City,” he said with a sneer on his face, “But not bad for the Outer Rim.” The baggage drifted in at his gesture. 

The Haxion Brood man didn’t react at all. “Please inform one of our staff in the main hall of any issues and we will fix them promptly.” He nodded and left, the door sliding shut behind him. 

BD-1’s head poked out of one bag, Cal’s, just barely. He nodded at them and the light of his eye began blinking as he started his sweep. 

Greez nodded and then clapped his hands. “Alright, so you two know where you’re sleeping.” He gestured to the staff bedroom. “Keep it quiet, alright?” The look he gave them was pure Greeze, not Captain Talis. Behind his disguise, Cal blushed and didn’t dare look at Merrin. “Now, let’s see about the view.” He walked past them to the main bedroom. 

BD-1 gave a loud boop and jumped out of the bag to leap onto Cal’s arms. Cal tossed the covering away from his face. “Clear,” he said, “Good job, buddy.” He turned on his comm link. “Thanks, Cere.” 

“So far, so good,” she said, “Seems like the arena is hosting a tournament tonight here in a few hours, so the Captain better be there. Once he’s inside the security cordon, you two won’t be allowed in, so that’s your chance to start the search.” 

“Just what I always wanted,” Greez said from where he was looking out the window, “To be alone, unarmed, and surrounded by criminals who want to kill me.” 

Cere scoffed. “I’ll go with you to make sure you don’t start moving that eyepatch around. Servants are allowed in. Just not bodyguards. BD-1, show them the map.” BD-1 obediently projected the holographic layout of Ordo Eris for them. Their current location blazed orange. “Below here is a marketplace. The Brood claims you can buy anything there and I’m tempted to say they’re right.” 

Greez nodded out the window. “That’s probably what our view is of.” He pointed at the level below them. “Below here is the Grand Arena, with its floor on the planetoid itself at the base of the spire.” He shook his head at the scale of it. “Let’s try to avoid getting down there this time, kid. We were lucky before.” 

“Agreed,” Cal said. 

“If we can find anything in the market,” Merrin said, “That must include ships. The _Wookie Gunner_ could be there.” 

“That’s my bet,” Cere said, “Considering the beacon was on and off, then been off for awhile, someone may have been making repairs. The ship is likely far from any survivors, but if we find it, we might be able to find where they went.” 

“So Cal, Merrin, and BD-1 will go hunting while I go to my dinner party with you,” Greez said, “I’ll comm you two when that’s done. Tournament fights last hours, so you should have plenty of time. Be nice if the ship’s being sold as a hunk of scrap and you find it and we get off this rock tonight.” 

Merrin pulled her cloak away from her face. “A good goal. Unrealistic, but good.” 

Greez shrugged resignedly. “Let’s get everything unpacked and I’ll clean up. Keep anything important on you in case we have to get going in a hurry.” 

Cal and Merrin moved to help with the bags, while BD-1 stood on top of the tallest one, giving directions that no one paid real attention, too. All three of them were nerves, but at least the droid seemed excited. A good sign, in its way. BD-1’s excitement usually meant things would work out. At least, that’s how it had gone so far. 

Something flickered on the edges of Cal’s awareness. He stepped back for a moment, searching for it through the Force. 

It wasn’t presence. More like a…portent, one that was vague, shadowy, unclear. It sat uneasily with him. 

He shook his head and went back to helping with the bags, taking the briefest moment to check that his lightsaber was near at hand. 


	9. Chapter 9

There was something of Coruscant to the VIP chambers of Ordo Eris. The beings there were important and knew it, flaunted it. Of course, when everyone was flaunting their status, that largely meant that none of them seemed particularly important. It reminded Cere of her one visit to the Senate chambers during the early days of the war. She’d always preferred desolate, distant places for a reason. 

Greez slipped right in, fortunately. Captain Talis had a big ego and big tastes, but that made him average here. Cere watched him grouse over a very nice Alderaanian wine with an equally ridiculous Rodian, some high-rolling go-between with some cash to her name, but she knew her Latero well enough to see her thought it was one of the best drinks he’d ever had in his life. 

She hoped Cal and Merrin were having a better time of it. 

The tournament below was early stages, not the real prize fights. Usually they ended in death and Cere winced with every life tossed away. All were willing, but what that was worth for the clearly unstable mental states of many was uncertain. 

“Officer Lora,” Greez said, holding out a glass, “Bring me more of that wine. I doubt there’s much better.” 

The Rodian next to him giggled. “Oh, Sorc Tormo has better, I’m sure.” She gestured to the executive box across the arena. “Can you imagine getting him to share?” She descended into giggles again. 

Greez laughed, false but convincing enough for the drunk, and shook his glass urgently. Cere suppressed an eye roll and took it, heading towards the well-dressed attendant who served as a bartender. 

The human looked bored as he refilled the glass, right until a trumpet sounded. He perked up, grinning madly and proving he was yet anther Haxion Brood brute. 

“It’s the Dowutin!” he said. 

Cere set aside her sinking feeling and expressed only vague cold, interest. “Dowutin?” 

“Dross. She’s the boss’ current champion. Guess she got too excited to contain.” He shrugged casually. “Happens often. Throws the matches off, but she’s the draw, not the payout, y’know.” 

“Yes,” Cere said, and drifted back to Greez with a full wine glass. 

Her friend watched the arena below, his lower arms gripping his seat crushingly. One of the upper ones took the glass from her, but he didn’t look away. The arena was a storm of noise at any time, but the intensity had grown. 

“ _Dross_! _Dross_! _Dross_!” 

The violence below was fierce but indistinct. The screen above the arena showed a Dowutin, clad in black rags, rip a droid apart with her hands. One leg and one and one hand were artificial. She bellowed as she stomped the scraps of the droid flat. 

It couldn’t be. Cal had seen her fall off the Origin Tree on Kashyyyk. The Ninth Sister was dead. 

Greez glanced up at Cere, his expression tight. 

Cere’s mind raced as the Dowutin took on the next fighter, brutalizing the armored figure. Was this an Imperial operation to find Jedi? They had to know that Tormo had at one point captured Cal and put him into the arena. Inqusitors were certainly clever and dedicated, but they were brute force instruments, not spies. Dross showed no sign of a lightsaber, using her hands and anything she could grab instead, and Cere couldn’t tell if she was using the Force to reinforce her strength. She was even more reluctant than usual to reach out to learn for fear of detection. 

She exchanged another glance with Greez and went to find a private place to call Cal. 

*** 

“This is quieter than Nar Shadaa,” Merrin commented, looking around at the Ordo Eris market. It was a vast space. When viewed from the room’s window, it had been bustling, but now it had a drowsy, relaxed feel. “But just as dangerous.” 

“More,” Cal told her. It had taken them time to get from the VIP area to the market. It was several levels above the arena, sitting at the heart of the spire. “We need to find ship dealers. Or junk dealers, maybe.” 

“You think the ship is being scrapped?” 

Cal shrugged. He caught the scarf around his face before it fell and tucked it in place again. “If Jedi ended up here, their ship wouldn’t have been in great shape.” 

She smiled behind her own scarf and raised a playful eyebrow. “And ours is in such poor condition?” 

“It _is_ painted bright purple.” 

“A fair point.” 

They drifted towards the still-busy collection of food and drink stands. It was as good a place as any to get directions as well as dinner. They picked a cantina and settled down at a table with their backs to a wall. A serving droid took their order promptly and trundled off to the kitchen. 

No eyes drifted their way. Why would they? A black-furred wookie with a cybernetic eye shelled some sort of crustacean in one corner, while what looked to be Jawas huddled around a table, whispering in an excited low murmur over something. Cal and Merrin were little different from the furniture by comparison. 

They watched as people and merchants moved around. Merrin saw no obvious sign of pilots of ship merchants, though in truth she didn’t know what to look for. Flight suits? Greez did not wear a flight suit, but he was a pilot. Mechanics, perhaps. She kept an eye on a few beings in battered, soiled fatigues who carried tools on their belts. Perhaps they would lead them to ships. They could ask after they ate. 

Merrin still let the tension coming off Cal in waves, though he was trying to stay calm. She squeezed his leg under the table, making him jump and prompting a different kind of tension. She didn’t look at him when he turned to stare at her. 

The moment was shattered when an armored figure sat down at their table. 

“Relax,” the man said from behind his helmet as both Jedi and Nightsister reached for their weapons, “This isn’t the place to start a shootout.” 

Merrin frowned at the T-shaped visor of the gray-armored helm. A Mandalorian. She’d heard of them, even on Dathomir. This one’s armor was a weather-beaten gray, with yellow markings painted above his visor to resemble eyes. 

“What do you want?” Merrin demanded. 

“Oh, just looking out for my next job. I suspect my current employer is going to have to pay his debts soon, and I’m not interested in ending up on the arena for his sake.” The helm scanned the rest of the cantina. “You work for that Latero? With the eyepatch?” 

“Yes,” Cal said slowly, “Who’s asking?” 

“This isn’t the place for names. Or faces.” 

“And you’re looking for a new employer.” Cal crossed his arms, leaning back, staring at the visor from over the scarf on his face. 

“Just exploring options. I’ve learned to talk to those risking their skins for someone before I sign onto their cause. Also, maybe you can help me find someone for an old friend.” He shook his head and sighed. “I’ve just got a direction to go in and a vague description. Typical, really.” 

“And we meet it?” 

“Not that I can tell. But I was told to look for a Latero. Might as well check into it while I’m preparing my back up plan.” 

“We are not in the habit of confiding in strangers,” Merrin said, fierce and wary. 

“No, you wouldn’t be…you seem to be looking for something.” He gestured to the whole market chamber. “I have done my scouting here. You can’t trust our hosts, which I think you know, so I’m damn careful. I can help you find whatever it is, and better than most.” 

Cal and Merrin exchanged glances. “Where can we talk safely?” 

The helmet cocked to the side for a moment. “Finish your supper,” he said, “Then meet me over at the Teal Langor.” He pointed towards makeshift building that featured holographic dancers in front of its neon-lit name. “There will be enough shadows for us in there.” 

The Mandalorian nodded and left, heading towards the marketplace. 

“It can’t be,” Cal muttered. Their drinks arrived and he grabbed one with a slightly trembling hand. 

“Can’t be what?” 

“I just…I think I know that voice.” He took a drink. “Not from a good place, either. Guess we’ll find out.” 


	10. Chapter 10

The Teal Langor was exactly the kind of shady, dodgy cantina it advertised itself as. There were no real dancers on display, just holograms that twisted endlessly through looped dances in front of gawping patrons who were nonfunctional in one wat or another. The hologram dancers also served as most of the lights. Shadows enough, indeed. 

Cal had no sense of threat from the Mandalorian as they approached where he sat near a deactivated holo-emitter. He hadn’t at the other cantina, either. 

It was just his voice, muffled as it was through the helmet…that was a clone’s voice. 

It kicked Cal’s fight-or-flight response into high gear. There had been a time when that voice had been a comfort, the voice of friends, but then had come the day when it was that voice’s owners hunting him through the corridors of the ship he’d called home. 

“I wouldn’t drink anything here,” the Mandalorian told them, “I think all the liquor distilled from starship de-icer.” 

“Noted,” Cal said. 

“We’re well hidden here.” The Mandalorian reached for his helmet, revealing a human man with close cropped blond hair. He blinked and rubbed at his ears and head. “Nothing like taking off your bucket after a few days.” 

Cal was frozen, staring. 

So he was a clone after all. 

Next to him, Merrin dropped her scarf. “Are we who you’re looking for?” 

The clone looked at Cal. 

As if in a trance, he dropped the scarf from his face as well. 

“Ah. Possibly not. But your face I do know,” the clone told Cal, “You know mine, too, though not because you know me.” 

“Last time I heard your voice, the men who owned it were trying to kill me. They killed my…” He choked on the words out of both caution and pain. 

“I don’t doubt that.” The clone ran his fingers over the yellow markings on his helmet. “My name is Rex. I earned these battle honors in the early days of the war. Blue, then, the color of my legion. Yellow, now, in mourning. Mourning for the losses of the war… _all_ the losses.” 

“Are you after the bounty?” Cal asked. 

The soldier’s gaze stayed on the markings on his helmet. “My brothers…they were not…they didn’t have a choice to do what they did. Not that it makes it better.” He sighed and shut his eyes, then opened them and pointed to his head. “It was chip they put into us in Kamino, you see. My friend I mentioned earlier, she cut it out of my brain while I was trying to kill her and I helped her escape. Killed…just killed every last one of my brothers in the process.” 

“So I can trust you.” 

Rex gave a wry smile. “What do you feel? I do know how that works by now.” 

Cal reached out in the Force. Rex felt steady and sure. No deception. Near him, around him, was steady if distant light that pulsed like a determined heartbeat. 

“Right,” Cal said. He took a deep breath. “We can trust him.” He grabbed Merrin’s hand under the table, drawing strength from it. 

Merrin gave him a look. He felt a thousand words rise in his throat, things he had to tell her about this, but he didn’t want to do it in front of Rex. Or anyone. “If Cal says we can trust someone, we can,” she said, “We are looking for a ship.” 

“A specific ship?” 

Cal looked around. No one seemed to be listening, but you never knew. He lowered his voice. “A freighter called _Wookie Gunner_. We tracked an encrypted message here from her.” 

Rex sat up straighter. “I know that ship. Good people. Helped us pull a Republic operative out of a hot spot once, then headed out to help refugees get food and medical aid. Ah, but your people had some issue with them.” 

Cal nodded. “I don’t know what and I don’t care.” He should, maybe. Maybe Cere was right and Altis had led others into the Dark Side. “They’re…we need help to fight the Empire.” He looked at Merrin. “Survivors adapt.” 

Rex sighed and ran a gauntleted hand over his face. “They do at that.” He frowned. “I think I know where we can start.” 

“And what do you want in return?” 

Rex slid his helmet over his face and gave a short laugh. “Permission to tell my friend she’s not alone and a way for her to contact you. And to help you. Finding Altis and his people would mean more to her than anything we could ever hope for these days.” He stood. “Cover your faces and let’s get out of this pit. We’ll head over to the ship dealers.” 

The Jedi and Nightsister followed his lead. While they were still of no note, a Mandalorian quickly found all paths cleared for him. The crowd was still small, but it grew thicker as they neared a series of kiosks that featured flashing holoprojectors depicting ships. Fighters, freighters, yachts, ships at rest, ships in flight, ships in battle. 

No Republic ships, Cal noted. Bracca had done it work well. 

Rex sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Like a needle in a haystack.” He pulled a commlink from pouch on his belt. “Best option is to scan check the stock lists for her IFF at every booth. You start at this end, I’ll go to the far booth, we’ll meet in the middle. Let me know if you get lucky.” 

Cal took the commlink and placed in on his own belt. “I’m thinking she might be getting scraped. Whoever triggered the message was doing it intermittently. We haven’t had received another one since we got here.” BD-1, tucked away in Greez’s room and monitoring comms in Cere’s place, would have alerted them if he’d gotten one. 

“Have to start somewhere.” Rex shrugged. “Let’s rule this out. I’d rather the ship be here than the scrapyards of Ordo Eris.” 

“Why?” Merrin asked. 

“Because that’s where arena escapees end-up, what’s left of them.” He waved a brief farewell and made his way down the row of ship-dealers. 

Merrin shook her head. “You know what that means?” 

Cal sighed. “Yeah.” 

It meant that was where the _Wookie Gunner_ was going to be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like Rebels did Rex dirty. While I believe the guy could retire to a farm when the still-dubious premature aging caught up to him, I hated how the show used him a lot for 'hehehe, old guy' jokes. Rex was a serious war hero, who had been through some serious stuff, and handled himself competently in a lot of nonstandard situations. Also, you can't tell me a guy who wore Mandalorian battle honors on his helmet (the iconic jaig eyes) and wore a kama (the kilt, which is a Mando thing) wouldn't embrace that heritage at least as a disguise. Mandalorians who aren't part of the Death Watch, its splinter cults, or Satine’s doomed weirdos were often homesteaders to some degree, anyway.
> 
> We still don't really know the story of how he and Ahsoka split up, so here he is. 
> 
> His encounter with Altis is from a novel called The Clone Wars: No Prisoners.


	11. Chapter 11

“It’s never simple,” Rex told them after they had all come back empty handed, “Not when it seems like it should be simple.” 

Merrin nodded sagely. “My people have a saying to that effect.” 

“That would be?” 

She thought about the translation for a moment. “’There is never just one spider egg.’” 

Rex and Cal both tipped their heads. “Well,” Cal said, “That’s true.” 

Rex’s chest shook in a silent chuckle. “Doesn’t bode well for our hunt, though.” 

“We’re on Ordo Eris,” Cal told him, “It was trouble from the start.” 

“Yes.” The clone shifted where he leaned against a pillar. “That leaves the scrapyard. We could go to the dealers, but they’re liable to get you down there, shoot you in the back, and take the credits out of your pockets.” 

“How do you know so much about this place, anyway?” Cal’s tone was calm, but the tension was plain to Merrin. He had not relaxed truly since the clone ad shown his face. 

The clone troopers had ended his world as the armored Jedi had ended hers. Men with all the same face, the same voice…should he be so wary? She had nearly killed him out of vengeance for a crime he had not committed but his kind had, and the memory made her ache with horror. But Malicos had been that kind, as well, and her rage with him had been justified. 

Rex shrugged in response to Cal’s question. “I’ve always been fond of recon when I have the time to do it.” 

Merrin’s regular commlink crackled with Cere’s voice. “Cal, Merrin,” she said, clearly trying to keep quiet, “Come in.” 

Cal glanced at Merrin and she nodded. “We hear you,” he said. 

“There’s a Dowutin in the arena. The current champion. They call her Dross.” 

“A…Dowutin?” Merrin asked. She’d never heard of the species. 

“She has a prosthetic leg and hand.” 

Cal had frozen. “She’s dead.” 

Merrin mentally walked through what they had told her of the Mantis’ journey before she joined the crew. Cal had fought an Inquisitor, a formidable one, on Kashyyyk…the Ninth Sister. 

“It might not be her, but…” 

“Could be. Yeah. One more reason to stay away from the arena.” 

“We won’t be much longer. Head the entrance for escort. No reason to change our plans.” 

“We’ll be there.” Cal stared into the distance after the call ended, clenching his jaw visibly. Merrin touched his arm, trying to cut through whatever memory he was reliving. 

“Dowutin,” Rex said, “That’d be Dross. Sorc Tormo’s new prize fighter. You’ve met before?” 

“I hope not.” 

“You survived, at least. I’ve seen her fight. Not many can say that.” 

Cal shut his eyes and took a deep breath, shifting to grab Merrin’s hand and give it a brief squeeze. “We need to head to the VIP section. Rex, we’ll be in contact later. I…need to explain this to Cere.” 

Rex stared at them for a long time, expression impossible to read behind the helmet. “My employer will be there all night. I’m going to find a stealthy way to get into the scrapyard.” He sighed. “And work on an escape plan. I’ve worked with your kind before. I know how it goes.” 

Merrin smiled to herself. “Indeed. I need to prepare for that tonight as well.” The cloaking ritual was easier at scale with some communing with the magick beforehand. She had no doubt they would need it. 

Rex eyed her for a moment. “Tomorrow, then.” He gave them a nod and wove his way into the growing crowd. 

“Cere will not take kindly to him, will she?” Merrin asked Cal as they made their way to the turbolift. 

“Probably not. I’m not sure I do. I get the right feel off of him, but it’s just so hard to move past what he is.” 

“I know the feeling.” 

“Heh.” She could tell from his eyes he was giving her a rueful smile. “You do.” 

They huddled into the crowded turbolift. Merrin took the opportunity to curl into Cal. It took him a moment, but he curved an arm around her to pull her even closer. A human gave them a leer, getting a glare back from both of them that caused him to blanch and look away. 

Nice to know she had not lost her touch. 

“You’re a bad influence,” Cal whispered, a smile in his voice. 

She laughed quietly. “You could always show your fangs when you wanted, and did, you just don’t realize it.” 

“Fangs?” 

“Sharp enough to shame a rancor.” 

His emerald eyes blazed in response and he pulled her even closer, a hand shifting to her hip. 

No Nightbrother would have touched her like this, not even she had claimed him, not even if he had been the strongest of them. They were passive, obedient, not foolish enough to dare possession of their wild and powerful mistresses. She would not have contemplated a touch such as Cal’s before. 

Now she was not sure she could face the galaxy without it. 

There were thoughts that trailed after that, but she would wrestle them some other time. For now, she basked in the heat of his eyes and the living flame of his touch. 

The turbolift opened to the VIP level and ended the moment, though they stayed close as they made their way forward to the entrance to the VIP section. The tournament event wasn’t over- screens flashed with the action- but there was a steady trickle of beings out of the security gates. 

Some of them were leaving unwillingly, hauled out by Haxion Brood bounty droids. Everyone gave them a wide berth, though Cal and Merrin kept an eye on them, making sure it wasn’t Greez that they were carrying off to parts unknown. 

“Do you think he’s gotten luckier?” Merrin asked him. Multiple debtors had passed them, but none was a latero. 

“I think Cere will _actually_ remove his eye if he places too many bets.” 

Merrin considered. “It would be an arm, I think. She knows how much he dislikes the eyepatch.” 

Cal chuckled. 

Cheers and shouts erupted all around them as the scene on the screens changed. 

A hulking creature burst into a rapid-fire duel. It was clad in black rags. A yellowish fist seized one of the combatants by the head and shook him violently. The other hand was a rough prosthetic that crushed his blaster rifle into scrap. A blunt-nosed face, with two great horns jutting out of the chin, was contorted in a sick expression of glee. 

“It’s her,” Cal said, stiffening, “I can feel it.” 

Merrin watched the violence play out. This was Dowutin, Dross, then. She tossed the dead body of her victim at his opponent before leaping at her. 

“ _How_? She fell from the Origin Tree.” 

“The tree with the Shyyo Bird?” 

“Yes.” 

“You survived falling with Gogara. Perhaps she did something similar.” Merrin watched the Dowutin stomp her opponents’ bodies into a gory mess, laughing like a child. It was feral, senseless. Not one of the calculating hunters Cal had described. “She reminds me of the creature we fought on Nar Shadaa. She seems…broken.” 

Cal shut his eyes, then opened them quickly. “There’s too much in the way. We’re too far for me to get a clear sense of her.” 

Dross bellowed in victory over the ruins of her prey. “Let us keep it that way.” 

“There you are!” They turned from the screen to see Greez making his way out of the security gates, an alert Cere on his heels. “Not too caught up in each other to do your kriffing jobs, at least.” Despite his tone, there was relief on his face. “Let’s get out of here. I’ve got big plans for tomorrow! Big plans!” He threw his arms wide. 

Cal and Merrin bowed at the same time. Over his shoulder, Cere eyed them sternly, her relief better hidden, though Merrin caught the glint of it in her eyes. “I take it you were at least productive?” she snapped. 

Merrin nodded once. 

“Out. Of. Here,” Greez said and headed to the turbolift, leaving them to trail after him. 

Cere’s expression softened once they were ensconced in the crowd. “Any luck?” 

“Of a sort,” Cal said, shrugging one shoulder. 

Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t like the sound of that.” 

“Just wait, you’ll like it even less.” 


	12. Chapter 12

“A _clone_?” 

Cal shut his eyes as Cere started pacing the room. He sat on the master bed in Greez’s room. Greez had bolted after he mentioned the clone, taking Merrin and bD-1 with him. He wished Merrin had stayed, but it was for the best. 

He wanted to talk to her, but he needed to talk to Cere. Clones were a Jedi problem. 

“A clone,” Cere said. She’d said it five times now. 

“Yes,” Cal answered, again. He opened his eyes. She’d stopped pacing. “He said-“ 

“He _said_ ,” she spat, “You’re lucky you didn’t get into a running gun battle and bring the whole Brood down on our heads.” 

That was true. Why was he trusting Rex? 

Same reason he had destroyed the Holocron. Some cross between reason and bone-deep feeling. “He said that there was a chip in their heads. He nearly killed a friend of his before she got it out. He helped her escape from the rest.” Cal forced the words out. He remembered the pain Rex had felt when he’d said the next part. “He killed them.” 

“A chip,” Cere said, pacing again, “Who would…” She stopped. “The Sith.” 

“The whole thing was trap for the Jedi,” Cal said, sitting back at, “Was it…was it that Sith?” He thought back to that dark terrible being on Nur. He tried not to do that. It set the scar on is chest burning and left him with nightmares for days. 

“Maybe. Doesn’t matter.” She turned back to him and dropped into a chair. “Not now. Maybe it would have.” She hid her face in her hands for a long time, then lifted grim eyes to Cal. “Right now, we need to find the _Wookie Gunner_ ,” she said, “and any survivors. Even if they’re Altis’ people. Then maybe this clone’s friend. If she exists.” 

“She does,” Cal said with absolute certainty, “I can sense her presence with him.” He thought of that powerful light. “She’s strong, whoever she is, powerful in the Light Side of the Force.” 

Cere’s gaze grew distant. “Maybe one of the masters survived. Maybe there’s a chance.” 

A chance to rebuild the Order. Cal was silent. The sick slip and slide of Inquisitor Kestis’ thoughts settled over him like a ghost, and a far more terrifying one than Master Tapal. 

“We can trust this Rex?” Cere asked him. 

“Yes.” He shrugged. “We don’t have a choice anyway. He has the best lead to the _Gunner_. He hasn’t turned us into the Brood. I don’t think there’s anyone else who can access the scrapyard who won’t.” 

“Not on Ordo Eris.” She sat back. “If the Gunner is down there, it’s more breadcrumbs to track.” 

Cal grinned. “That’s what we do best. A ship that’s been decommed for less than ten years should offer more of them than ruins older than the invention of the hyperdrive.” 

Cere raised an eyebrow. “So we hope.” She sighed. “Then there’s Dross.” 

“She’s the Ninth Sister,” Cal confirmed, “I can tell. But…broken.” 

“That I believe. No lightsaber, either.” Cere rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “That hand isn’t up to Imperial standard either.” 

“Dross…a discard.” Cal cocked his head. “Trash.” 

Cere frowned and shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. She’s locked away in the arena and we’re not going there is we can do anything about it.” She reached over to a nearby table to grab her ridiculous purple uniform cap. “Let the clone know we’ll meet up tomorrow. I’ll sleep in the ship, then meet you in the morning with every gun on the Mantis. I have a feeling we’ll need them.” She rubbed at her eyes. “First, a shower. I think I still smell like overpriced perfume. Criminals are worse than Hapan matriarchs with the scents.” 

“Sounds like a different galaxy.” 

Cere blinked at him. “You left Coruscant as soon as you became a padawan, didn’t you? It’s the same galaxy, that place and this.” She gave a rueful smile to the distance, to the past. “Maybe you were lucky to never know it.” 

Cal doubted that. If none of this had happened, so many people would still be alive. Master Tapal, Eno Cordova, Prauf, Trilla. So many wouldn’t have been broken. 

He wouldn’t have had BD-1 or Greez or Merrin. No Shyyo bird, no ancient wonders uncovered. If he’d ever met Cere, it would have been completely different. 

Was it ever worth it, to regret the past you couldn’t have controlled? 

The door slid open and Greez bustles through, Merrin on his heels with BD-1 on hers, both carrying boxes. “How was your heart-to-heart?” the latero asked, “Great. I got supplies to restock the ship’s galley.” 

“You went all the way down to the market in that amount of time?” Cere asked, incredulous. 

Greez snorted. “No. What did you think I had our buddy doing all day?” He gestured to BD-1 with an arm. “He was making orders for me. Might as well get something really worthwhile out of this mess.” 

“And you want me to take all this back to the ship?” 

He pushed his box into her arms. “Who is the boss around here, huh?” He looked between her and Cal. “I can tell we better be ready to go tomorrow, so I’m going to take advantage of this while it lasts.” He pointed Merrin and BD-1 to Cere. “Give ‘em to her.” 

Merrin obediently placed her box on top of Cere’s, giving Cal a look that promised an interesting story later. BD-1, with flawless balance, leapt up to slide his smaller box on top of that one. Cere just glared at Greez. “Any other requests?” 

“Ehhhh.” Greez rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Give the on-board refresher a scrub. Been a few jumps since anyone got around to it.” 

“I’d salute, sir,” Cere said, deadpan, “But then I’d drop your packages.” 

“Can’t be having that,” Greez said. He stepped aside and held his arms out to the door. “I’ll comm you if I need anything.” 

Cere rolled her eyes and made her way out the door, hip-checking Greez as she passed. 

He brushed himself off. “It’s good to be the boss.” 

Cal stood, smiling and shaking his head. “I need to call Rex.” 

“Yeah, the clone guy.” Rex turned on the holoprojector. “Replays. Of course.” 

“You want to come?” 

Greez snorted. “I’ll run comms and get the _Mantis_ ready to run. Stealthily.” He flipped channels on the holoprojector. “All replays. Not the creative types, the Haxion Brood.” 

“You’re not concerned.” 

Greez abandoned the holoprojector. “I am, but I’ve gotten used to it.” He shrugged. “We’re in the heart of Brood. There’s no way out of this one but forward.” 

“It is a thornbush, and the thorns will shred us it we try to back away,” Merrin said. 

“That one of your people’s sayings?” 

“No, that one is an observation from experience. It is a good metaphor.” 

“Yeah, though these thorns won’t just shred us, they’ll blow us into a thousand teeny-tiny pieces like that.” He snapped. “I don’t think the Brood will care if you get into a fight in their scrapyard. But I’ll keep the engines prepped anyway.” He rubbed at his eyes. “You crazy kids make your calls and get some shut eye. This one seems like it’ll be smooth, but…” He shook his head. “Tell me the plan in the morning.” He dropped back into the bed, arms spread wide. 

Cal grinned and led Merrin to the servants’ room, following behind BD-1. “How was picking up shopping with Greez?” 

She laughed and pulled away her ridiculous headdress. Her hair fell to her shoulders in a silken, silvery wave. “Entertaining. He enjoys the part.” 

“So he was rude to the staff.” 

“To the Haxion Brood.” She grinned, sitting to remove her boots. “The ones who have been hunting him. He ordered them around like they were something disgusting he stepped on.” 

Cal sat next to her on the bed and undid his own headdress. It was a relief to get the hot, sweaty thing off. Ordo Eris was on the chilly side, like most stations, but the market was kept a bit warmer and they’d been running around all day. “Wish I’d seen it.” 

“Perhaps you’ll get the chance. I do not think tomorrow is the end of this.” 

“Maybe you do have some of that Jedi intuition after all.” 

She gave him a level look. “Mostly prolonged exposure to you.” 

His smile faltered. “That’s not so bad, I hope.” 

She laughed and looked away. “Not at all.” 

He blushed and busied himself removing his own boots, trying and failing to push down the thought they were sitting on a bed and the only other place to sleep was the floor. 

“I do think we can trust this clone,” Merrin said, “As I trust Jedi now.” 

Cal tossed his boots against the wall. BD-1 pushed them into a neat pile. “We can.” He rested his elbows on his knees. “I know that. I just…I don’t want to.” 

Her brow furrowed. “You do not want to trust him even though you know you can?” 

“I…” He scrubbed at his face. “The clones all sound the same, all look the same. He talks and it’s like being back on the Albedo Brave when they turned on us.” He thought back to that day, and then he thought back further, to the heady days of the war. “We fought side by side. Some of them were my friends. And they turned on us out of nowhere.” 

“They couldn’t help it, according to Rex.” 

“Yeah. But it’s hard to believe.” It made sense. It had happened so suddenly. Their commitment had been absolute and single minded, no thinking of danger in a way he had never seen out of clones almost droid-like. It really was as if someone had flipped a switch. He grit his teeth. He didn’t want to be so rational about this but kriff if it didn’t make sense. “There’s some part of me that’s still afraid, even after all this time.” 

Merrin reached up to touch his cheek. “Fear is not a good thing to take advice from,” she told him. The touch turned into a caress. “It clouds your mind when you need it the clearest.” 

Cal leaned into her touch. “Master Tapal used to say something like that. Didn’t seem like a hard lesson at the time.” 

“Hmm.” She caressed him again, then grabbed his face to bring his lips to hers. 

Cal froze for a moment in surprise, but responded a heartbeat later. She was so _soft_. Something about it made him ache, drawing out something that he had kept long buried. 

He pulled her forward, guided by an instinct more basic than his connection to the Force. Everywhere they touched prickled with sharp, sweet points of heat. He _wanted_ , in a way he had never wanted before. One hand slid along her waste, fingers brushing the bottom of her tunic, unsure, curious, wanting _so much_. 

Merrin drew back. Cal followed, but she held up a hand. “You have a call to make,” she said, her voide breathy, “Before you forget.” 

He stared at her for a moment. “Right. Yes.” His own voice was rough. He reluctantly disentangled himself from her and stood. No way he could make a call while still sitting on the bed. He ran his hand through his hair and dug out Rex’s commlink from his belt. 

Merrin was watching him with heavy-lidded dark eyes in the dim light and it took him three tries to activate the commlink. He was grateful for the long tunic of his disguise, though he still blushed at the thought she might notice anything. 

“Rex, come in, over,” he said. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Rex, this is your friend, from earlier.” 

“Didn’t give a link to anyone else,” came the crackling reply, “You alright? Sound like you’ve been running.” 

Cal wondered if he could blush harder. “No, we’re fine. Everyone on the crew is on board. What’s your plan?” 

As Rex outlined how they were getting into the scrapyard, he watched as Merrin drifted to sleep while watching him through long silvery lashes. 

BD-1 made a curious noise from under the bed as Cal finished his call. “And you were here the whole time,” Cal told the droid, going to his knees to look at him, “Don’t think Merrin would have appreciated that.” He didn’t. Even if it was BD-1. 

Not that it had been going…there. Specifically. This time. 

BD-1 whistled, drawing him back to the room. “Right. Early morning. I’m going to meditate first. Watch over Merrin.” 

The droid gave a sing-song affirmative as Cal settled into meditation, chasing after peace and, more importantly just right now, patience. 


	13. Chapter 13

The clone Rex was waiting for them at the cantina again. Merrin had managed to stay awake long enough to learn about that. 

She was still annoyed at herself for falling asleep. What she would have done, if she could have kept her eyes open, she was not quite certain of, but not doing it made her grind her teeth when she thought of it. 

It was just as well, truthfully. They had an early morning. 

They had swapped Greez for Cere with a great deal of fanfare, dropping off their ‘boss’ at the ship so he could conduct some business in private, which he’d announced to everyone within earshot loudly and angrily. Here, among these people, it seemed that it was inconspicuous by merit of its conspicuousness, like the terrifyingly purple paint on the _Mantis_. 

Cere had been dispatched with them, to ‘go seal that deal’. If they ended up leaving due to success or failure, they certainly made it look like they were getting ready to do so. BD-1 perched on her shoulder, scanning all he saw. 

Cal looked at the banners that had been hung all around the market. “Looks like tonight is the main event for this round of fights.” 

“If this doesn’t end in disaster, we need to get Greez down there to hold off any suspicion,” Cere whispered. 

Merrin checked the blaster at hip and brushed her will against the whisper of magick, expecting disaster. 

They approached the clone in Mandalorian armor. “Nice to see you again,” he said. The T-shaped visor turned towards Cere. “See you brought reinforcements.” 

Cere raised her chin, all cold arrogance. “You fought in the war.” 

“I did. So did you. Cere, is it? A friend of mine heard of you.” Merrin did not think they had told of Cere. “She has her ways.” 

Cere glanced at Cal. “I can imagine. Let’s finish our business, shall we?” 

Rex nodded. “Follow me.” 

They followed Rex through the crowd to a shadowy edge of the market. A small being, a Sullustan, was wrangling a pack of mechanic droids to offload something from a beaten service lift. 

Rex paused, watching the scene. “One less scavenger to shoot our way through,” he muttered to them. He turned back to the Sullustan. “Oy! Aken! Good haul today?” 

The Sullustan skittered out of the way, muttering something in a language Merrin did not understand. He shouted at his droids and they started pulling the equipment slowly out of the lift. 

Rex shook his head. “One of the more honest scrap merchants of Ordo Eris.” He led them into the lift as it cleared out. “He’d only shoot you before you paid him. That way you’re not really a customer.” 

The turbolift began grinding its way down. 

“This takes us to the lower levels?” Merrin asked. 

“The lowest. Where the Haxion Brood stores whatever junk ships it ends up with after their unlucky owners get in system.” 

“Not too different from Bracca,” Cal said. 

“The scrap-planet? No. It’s just a junkyard. Nothing there goes to any use unless the scrap rats can find a buyer who will pay more than they can steal from their corpse. Most of it just rots.” 

Merrin contemplated the idea. A graveyard of lost ships, forgotten, unmourned, laid to rest in the dark as useless things. It was an unwelcome thought- and it reminded her of home. 

What was her life now, that she could not embrace the harshness of this sort of place, as she once embodied the thorns and barrenness of her homeworld. 

Panicked behind her scarf, Merrin reached for magick. It rose in response, sliding and singing around her like an old friend. The soft green glow of it was as steady as ever where it spiraled around her arms, causing her to wonder. 

What was the power of Dathomir, really, that it still rose to her call even now, when the thought of the lonely stones and wind-sept dead was unwelcome? When _she_ was so different? 

Rex grunted. “Of course. Well, the more Jedi, the merrier.” 

Merrin sorted, allowing the power to withdraw. “I am not a Jedi, I am a Nightsister. My name is Merrin and I am the last of my kind.” She stared at her gloved hand, still wondering. 

“From where I stand, ma’am, it all looks the same.” He shook his helmeted head. “Don’t know why none of you ever get that.” The lift halted with jolt, protesting as it settled. “You can remove your disguises here,” he told them, “The Brood isn’t watching down here. They don’t care unless it gets off this level. The risk here is not having your full peripheral vision.” 

Cal and Merrin undid their heavy headdresses, allowing them to drape over their shoulders. It was a relief to feel the air again on her face. And to see Cal’s. 

The lift door ground open, revealing a dim and desolate landscape. 

The scrapyard was, likely, completely flat, but hulks of ruined starships rose out of the dust everywhere, some so large and distant they resembled mountains. The light was low, filtering in from above somewhere. BD-1’s eye lens changed color to better see. Merrin found it no challenge for her eyes to adjust as she stepped out of the lift, but Cal and Cere had to pause, blinking, for a few moments. 

Though just as fully human, Rex had no issue leading them forward immediately, probably due to the helmet. “Let’s get away from the lift,” Rex said, “Find cover, see if we can track any hint of your signal.” 

BD-1 toodled and hopped from Cere’s shoulder to Cal’s. The redheaded Jedi smiled. “Seems that BD-1 might be picking up the _Wookie Gunner_ ’s IFF.” 

“Right.” Rex led them to a beaten half of an old freighter. “What have you got?” he asked BD-1. 

The little droid made a few beeps and extended his antenna. 

“There must be dozens, even hundreds, of IFF signals still pinging,” Cere said, “No one would care if they set it off while messing with a scrap hulk’s electronics.” 

“Hopefully they’re not causing too much interference to triangulate the _Gunner_ ,” Cal said. 

A distant clang rang out. Rex unholstered his blasters. “If we can get in and out, I’d be happy.” 

Cere snorted, holding her own blaster ready, “I think we can handle a few would-be bandits.” 

“It’s not really them I’m worried about. This level connects to the cells below the arena. Sometimes things get out. When I first got here, I took a job taking down a rancor that had escaped down here for one of the scrappers.” 

“Work for the highest bidder, then?” 

Rex grunted. “I was sent to find _you_ , Jedi, but I had to make ends meet before I did.” 

“Which master sent you?” Cere demanded. 

Rex chuckled. “I’ll let her know about that one.” 

BD-1 beeped and starting jumping up and down enthusiastically. “He’s got it,” Cal said. The droid leapt off his shoulder and started marching into the dusty scrapyard. “Let’s go.” 

Merrin drew her blaster as they moved into the dark. She heard distant noises, but nothing walked or crawled into their path. This disturbed her more than if vermin or a monster had shown up. 

BD-1 kept close in front of Cal as they moved through the wrecked hulls. Merrin scanned all around her, placing each step carefully. For once, she envied Cal his strange connection with the Force and the way it could forewarn him of danger. The air smelled stale and dusty, though when they passed near the skeleton of some half-gutted ship, sometimes she caught the scent of oil and other chemicals. 

There was a squawk from the droid an her leapt to Cal’s shoulder. The Jedi and Cere ignited their lightsabers, orange and red throwing off fiery light. 

In front of them lay scattered humanoid bodies clad in white armor. Rex rushed forward past Cal. 

“Clones,” Cere said grimly, “What were they doing here?” She held her lightsaber to the side, revealing a few more bodies. Their white armor reflected the red light. “Hunting Altis?” 

“Maybe,” Rex said, sitting back from where he’d knelt over one of the dead clones, “Whatever they were doing, they were in a bad way.” He gestured to the clone’s cracked breat plate. “There’s a lot of damage her, bad damage. It takes wear and tear for plasteel to get like that.” He rested a hand on the clone’s helmet. “Bodies have been here years. Must have been mummified in their sealed armor. No lightsaber wounds. My bet would be blunt trauma.” 

Merrin moved delicately over and around the bodies. “The way they fell looks like they turned to face their foe.” 

Rex sighed and shook his head. He took off his own helmet to stae down at the dead trooper’s. Merrin watched, curious. “Wonder if an escape pod or transport got hauled down here. Or they broke out of the arena.” 

Cere switched off her lightsaber. “Probably hunting Jedi. Serves them right. Let’s keep going.” 

Cal stiffened ad Merrin followed suit. Did he expect a fight? 

Rex sighed. “If they were, it wasn’t their fault.” He fell silent for a moment, one hand on the dead clone’s chest, then stood to look at Cere. “Hate us all you want. It wasn’t our choice. None of it. Not the war, not the order, not what the galaxy’s become.” 

“It was clones who slaughtered children. Who seized my padawan so she could be turned into a monster.” 

“And it was Jedi who led a slave army, knowing what it was the whole time.” Rex settled his helmet back on his head, the fierce eyes on the helmet seeming almost alive in the orange glow of Cal’s lightsaber. “What’s done is done. Let’s go.” 

Merrin looked at Cal, but he was contemplating Rex. He switched off his lightsaber. “I’m sorry they died here, Rex.” He reached down to touch one of the still bodies and drew back quickly as soon as he did. 

The T-shaped visor snapped back to look at him. “Thanks, kid. Well, little droid? Which way?” 

BD-1 hopped to the ground, leading them forward once again. Merrin drew even with Cal on the droid’s heels. “Did you sense something?” she asked quietly. 

“They were killed by some kind of animal,” he told her, “It had been hunting them and they had to make a stand. Most of them died distracting it so one could wound it. It killed him, too, but not before he threw a grenade into its throat.” 

“A brave death.” 

“There was point to it. None of them survived.” 

Merrin reached out and squeezed his hand briefly. “What else could they do but fight?” 

Cal gave her a wan smile. “Nothing. I remember…they were some of the bravest people I ever met. And some of the best. If only…” 

She thought of Ilyana and her sisters, of a thousand joyful memories stained now with pain because of what had happened. “I know what you mean.” 

*** 

Greez had expected to find that Haxion Brood’s encrypted comms traffic to be much more exciting. He expected talk of assassination plots, smuggled treasure, or at least rigged arena fights. 

What he got was a series of quarter-hourly guard post reports and ship movement logs. The only difference between these and the Imperial ones was the fact that the guards sometimes answered in different languages. 

Greez was puzzling over whether one of the guards was speaking some strange form of Huttese or something else when a droid announced, “Code Ember. Fighter number six-six-six-nine, Code Ember.” 

The radio traffic went absolutely nuts. “Lock down all access doors to the arena catacombs! Now!” 

“Is that..? Did they just say—” 

“Which way did she go?” 

“I need a check on the prisoner level _now_!” That last one was Sorc Tormo himself. Greez blinked and sat up in his seat. “We are not losing our investments because of one security breakdown! I’m not cancelling this tournament because of this!” 

Greez got a sinking feeling in his stomach. He wasn’t a good enough slicer to try to patch into Ordo Eris’ systems safely to learn more. All he could do is listen with one hand ready at the link to Cere, Cal, and Merrin. 

“Prisoner six-six-six-nine is moving in the direction of the scrapyard,” the droid stated in a cool, calm tone. 

“Four thousand credits to whoever captures her!” Tormo shouted. He was greeted by a long silence. “Cowards! Ten thousand! Ten thousand credits to whoever catches Dross!” 

Dross. The Ninth Sister. 

Greez hit the commlink. “She’s out!” he shouted, no waiting for an answer, “The Ninth Sister broke loose and she’s headed your way!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) The Talzin coven's understanding of magick is not the only one, or even the healthiest. A theme of the Prequel-era is the unhealthy (and unwise) social engineering choices of Force-using groups, no reason for Talzin not to be doing the same thing.  
> 2) I lean toward Merrin being half-Zabrak. Human-alien hybrids and relationships were a thing in Legends, along with Togrutan and Wookie Mandalorians, the decadent human reverse-harem Kuati matriarchy, and at least one entire species that reproduced by cloning the same guy since forever. Legends is why my imagination is so bonkers, I love it.
> 
> …Bo-Katan’s secret Mandalorian army better have some Wookie Mandalorians, Favreau. Creed, not race, you said it. Wookie. Mandalorians.


	14. Chapter 14

They all stood in silence for a heartbeat after Greez’s message. 

“How far is this ship?” Rex asked. 

Cal looked at BD-1, who gave whistled and tossed his head to a hulk looming nearby. “There,” Cal translated. 

“Hurry, then.” The rushed across the dusty ground. The ship drew closer and closer as they wove around smaller wrecks. 

Cal felt the shadow before he saw her. 

Dross, the Ninth sister, slammed into the ground in front of them. She loomed even above Rex as she stood, a ragged, dirty figure that seemed at home with the ruin of the scrapyard. 

“ _You_ ,” she said. It was barely a word. She took a step forward, her one maddened eye fixing on Cal. Her prosthetic hand flexed. 

Cal and Cere ignited their lightsabers. “You’re free now,” Cal said. He glanced over her shoulder, where the _Gunner_ lay. “You could run.” 

A strange sound rippled from her, shaking her whole body. Rex and Merrin began edging towards the _Gunner_. The shaking burst out into a laugh, long and echoing. 

“Thrown away,” the Inquisitor said, “Broken.” 

They called her Dross here. Now it made sense. She was a castoff, trash, refuse. Dross. 

“And so will you be!” She lashed out with her prosthetic hand. 

Cal blocked it with his lightsaber. It didn’t slice through. Cal jumped back, eyes wide. How? 

Dross chuckled and lunged again. 

Cere struck at her shoulder with her ruby blade, causing the Dwoutin to rear back in pain. She turned on the woman. “Get to the _Gunner_!” Cere said, “I’ve got her!” 

Rex fired off a shot, scoring a solid hit on Dross’ shoulder. “Go!” he yelled, moving to flank the former Inquisitor. 

Cal, Merrin, and BD-1 only hesitated for a second before bolting for the ship, dodging around a wrecked old skiff to make straight for her. 

The _Gunner_ loomed over them, her rear hatch gaping open drunkenly. She had been a large freighter, room enough for cargo and several families of passengers. The cargo bay was pitch black, illuminated only by Cal’s lightsaber. 

He and Merrin stood in the dark. The echoes of violence behind them grew distant. “She has a short attention span,” Merrin said, “Can Cere handle her?” 

Cal thought of Cere on Nur. “Yeah. If I could, she can for sure.” 

They moved forward into the darkened ship. Cal reached out to lay a hand along the hull. 

This place had been a home, and a happy one at that. Sad, though, at the end. 

Desperate. Determined. 

“What do you feel?” Merrin asked. 

“They were not going to go down without a fight,” Cal said. He drew his hand back from the hull. “Let’s keep going.” 

*** 

Cere darted backwards from the Ninth Sister as she slammed a chunk of debris down where she’d been standing. 

There had been a time when Cere had been as swift and agile as a convor, but between age and her diminished connection to the Force, she had to rely on her wits and instincts now. 

As well as the fact that her enemy was insane. 

Rex fired down at the Dwoutin from on top of a nearby ruined spaceship. She let loose a guttural bellow and danced between the blaster bolts with savage delicacy, turning from Cere towards the clone. 

They’d scored many hits on the creature now known as Dross, leaving her body marked with scorch marks and saber cuts, but she kept going. Inquisitors were no strangers to pain, Cere knew, but this…this was beyond what she could imagine a being enduring. 

Cere took a deep breath and launched herself at her foe’s back. 

Dross turned before she could strike and swept Cere out of the way. Something cracked under the strike and Cere was sent tumbling into the dust. Cere pulled herself to her feet as quickly as she could, clutching at her side. Cracked rib, she bet. 

Just like old times, really. 

She shoved aside the pain and watched the Dwoutin start climbing up the side of the derelict to get at Rex. It was a struggle; her artificial hand seemed to have been damaged and wasn’t gripping properly. 

Cere angled a blaster shot at the dead center of her foe’s back. 

Two circles of blue light shot out of the darkness, hitting the former Inquisitor. She froze and toppled back off the derelict to land with a meaty thump in the dust, battered but breathing. 

Stunned. Cere switched off her lightsaber and stashed it on the back of her belt, hidden by her shirt, and turned to see a pack of Haxion Brood come rushing through the gloom. She dropped her blaster and held up her hands as they approached, weapons ready. One stopped in front of her, blaster pointed at he rhead. 

One, a Twi’lek, rushed to the unconscious Dwoutin and rattled off a chain of broken Huttese. The human leader nodded, looking at Cere and at Rex as he jumped down from the ruined ship. “Well, well. Guess we were beaten to the chase. Who the hell are you two?” 

“I’m looking for some parts for my boss’ ship,” Cere said. She nodded to where Rex stood with his own hands raised. “I was told I should hire a bodyguard to go down here, so I did.” She glared at the Ninth Sister. Some of the goons were setting up a repuslor-powered litter and figuring out how to drag her onto it. “I wasn’t expecting to have to fight off the arena champion.” 

“She busted out a few hours ago,” the boss said, watching as his henchman dragged the Dwoutin’s dead weight to the leader as carefully as possible. “Happens, from time to time, with the more…stubborn arena contestants.” 

“So I’ve heard.” Cere scowled at the blaster still pointed at her. “Can I go now? My boss isn’t the most patient.” 

“Hmm.” The head goon eyed her and Rex for a moment. “I’ve seen Dross kill Mandalorians easy, but you two had her dead-to-rights. My boss, _the_ boss, will be impressed. Who do you work for?” 

Damnit! “Muurc Talis,” she said, “Captain of the Corusca Idyllwild.” 

“For the moment, her.” Rex supplied when the man looked at him. 

“Which means Talis.” He pushed his henchman’s blaster down. “Let’s give your boss a call, set up a meet with Sorc Tormo. He’s gonna love this. Come on.” He jerked his head back the way he came. “We’ll meet him at the boss’ box. Best seats in the house.” 

Cere stopped to grab her blaster, as did Rex, but the Brood didn’t seem concerned. They outgunned them easily, as good as they both were, and Cere wasn’t willing to break out the lightsaber were anyone might see it except in the most dire circumstances. The pair exchanged a glance. No options but to go. 

Rex scuffed the ground deeply for a moment, then nodded at her. They headed out, falling in behind the litter, surrounded. 

Cere took comfort in knowing that if anyone could handle themselves, it was Cal, Merrin, and BD-1. 


	15. Chapter 15

The _Wookie Gunner_ had been ransacked, but not too long ago, by Cal’s guess. He knew a thing or two about junked starships. 

They moved towards the bridge, passing a galley and several living quarters. This had been no warship. Cal neither saw nor felt any sign of violence, not a scorch mark or a memory of a desperate last stand. 

They entered the galley on their way to the bridge. Merrin stopped as Cal continued and he turned to look back at her. “Everything okay?” 

Her eyes roamed over the galley gloom, the only light coming from Cal’s lightsaber and a few lights on BD-1’s chassis. “Yes,” she said slowly, “It is just…it reminds me of the village, after my sisters died.” 

Cal thought of the marks of life he’d seen left behind on Dathomir. He nodded. “Hollowed out.” 

“Yes. But it is different…There was power here.” She turned in a slow circle. “Content, but not inactive- like a beast within its den. Can you feel it? What is left behind is like shreds of fur, footprint, scrapings in the dust, things left behind…” 

Cal extended his senses, trying to look beneath the surface of the universe. He could catch the vague hum of it, but it seemed illusory. There wasn’t anything like the Zeffo grandeur here, but there had been something potent, bright, solid. Maybe. 

Merrin was better at sensing this sort of thing. He smiled in wonder at her. The vague semi-feeling of the power that had lived here seemed stronger that he did. 

She looked back at him, brows furrowing at his expression, though a smile tugged at her lips as well. “It was a kind thing that was here. I don’t understand how it could be like that, but it was.” 

Cal reached a hand out to her. “Come on. Maybe Altis left some answers.” 

She took the extended hand and he led them cautiously towards the bridge. Some electrical access panels had been opened and showed evidence of attempted repair. From what Cal saw, the ship might well be repairable. He wondered how it had ended up in its current state. 

The bridge, when they found it, was a gutted ruin. Cal pulled up short in surprise at the contrast with the rest of the _Gunner_. BD-1 gave long, low woo. 

Cal dropped to one tangles of cables to look more closely. “Maybe,” he told BD-1, “But this isn’t the aftermath of an attack. These are repairs. Rough ones.” 

“Someone is looking to fix the ship?” Merrin asked. 

“Or pry information out of it.” 

“We thought that might be the case. Did they know it was a Jedi ship?” 

The bounty on Jedi was probably good motivation to go through all this effort if they’d learned it was. “It would explain why they tried to fix it.” Cal followed some of the cables and repairs. It looked like they’d gotten the auxiliary power on and shifted over the main systems to that. Life support control looked utterly fried; that was probably why the _Gunner_ was in this junkyard, then. “You see an access point?” he asked BD-1. 

The droid bounced off his shoulder and started scanning their surroundings. Cal and Merrin picked their careful way across the cables in his wake. 

With a triumphant series of beeps, BD-1 plugged into an access point. He looked over to Cal and Merrin and trilled. 

“Nice job!” Cal said, touching him lightly on the head, “Can you access any logs?” 

A nearby holoterminal lit up, whirring disconcertingly, and the tall, bearded figure of Altis flickered to life. “Eno, you were right. Our day is done. I’ve done what I can…we’re the refugees now, my old friend. If you can, make your way to the Wookie Gunner. I can’t offer much of a sanctuary, but it is better than nothing.” 

“The transmission,” Merrin said. 

BD-1 beeped an explanation. 

“Looks like they tripped the broadcast when doing repairs, which is why BD-1 received it,” Cal translated, “It stopped when they messed with the systems again.” The droid hummed, head shifting to the side curiously. “Other logs? Good. Let’s see if Altis can tell us where he and his people are now.” He switched off his lightsaber, leaving them with only the glow of the holoterminal for light. 

The image of Atlis changed again. He wore the same clothes, but he looked more ragged. “I don’t know that anyone will ever hear this,” he said, “The darkness the Jedi feared has come. I’ve scattered my students. It’s the only hope. We’re safer than Windu’s Jedi, but only because we’re more flexible.” He gave a rueful smile. “My so-called lack of discipline may be our saving grace. I only sought to live quietly, to bring light to dark places in the ways I could, to pursue wisdom in all I did. This was what I taught to all who came to me.” 

Altis began pacing. “It was not what the Temple Jedi taught. I…I think I know how this shadow came upon us, and it was…Jedi are not meant for that austere grandeur. We are meant to have hearth and home as much as any other being. We cannot carry a light into dark places if there is nowhere to kindle that light for us to carry. None of us is strong enough to generate the light by ourselves when the shadows press all around us. I remember sensing his pain…I could be bitter about this, but that time is past. I only now give advice to any who walk this now more darkened galaxy…to you, who I can feel will watch this.” 

He stopped and faced them directly. “Kindle the flames of your hearth. Live, have children, build a home, _love_. There will be battles and shadows, but you don’t have to face them as cold and passionless thing, not least of all because you can’t, in the end.” He looked away for a moment. “I will remain with the _Gunner_ , a decoy. I know I’m being pursued. This ship has taken enough hit lately I don’t think she’ll last long. There’s an asteroid belt that can hopefully chew a few of my pursuers up, give the others more time to go to ground, hide who they were.” He rubbed his chin for a moment, then favored them with a kind grin. “You’ve been looking for me. Well, in every way that really counts, you found me. May the Force be with you.” 

The message ended. 

Cal just stared at it. He could feel how Altis was dead, now. Who knew where his students were now? Cal didn’t think they wanted to be found. 

He should have been left cold. 

Instead, he was blazing. 

They didn’t want to be found, they wanted kindle the flames of their hearth. And so did he. 

His hand found Merrin’s once again. They looked at each other in the blue glow of the holoterminal. He wondered if he saw the same hope in her eyes that she saw in his. 

As uncertain as it felt, Cal found he had a way forward now that he hadn’t since the Zeffo Vault. 

He knew, now, how to fend off Inquisitor Kestis. 

“Let’s go find the others,” he said. BD-1 leapt up onto his shoulder and he ignited his lightsaber, leading Merrin through the now-cozily silent _Wookie Gunner_ hand-in-hand. 

They exited the _Gunner_ carefully, feeling its vague and sleepy kindness ebb. There were people out there in the gloom, hostile ones. “Outside,” Cal said, “Probably the Brood.” Merrin cocked her head for a moment, then nodded, reluctantly releasing his hand. He turned off his lightsaber and clipped it to his belt, hidden, and both he and Merrin carefully redid the headdresses that hid their faces. BD-1 huddled close to Cal’s side under the folds of fabric. 

They moved out with hands on their blasters. He could feel a low-level hum off coming from Merrin in his teeth, a sign she was ready to strike. If it came to battle, Cal would bring out his lightsaber, but until then, better safe than sorry. They still had to get off Ordo Eris. 

The group was definitely the Brood, to go by their uniforms, and they spotted them right away. Cal counted fifteen, of them, heavily armed, and at least one repurposed probe droid. A Rodian called over a large muscular Twi’lek. He gave them a wicked grin. “Well, well,” he said in Huttese, “You two look capable. Perfect. We’ve got quite a show planned tonight. Big risk, big reward.” 

The rest of the pack surrounded them. The probe droid hovered above. It would be gone into the gloom the instant a shot was fired, Cal was sure of it, reporting to the Brood. Fifteen goons they could take, but the whole of Ordo Eris, not likely. 

He exchanged a glance with Merrin. Her eyes flashed in a predatory way, interesting him in a way that wasn’t very helpful right now, but he felt her magick subside. “Lead the way,” he said. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) We lose the trail of any Altisian Jedi and the Jedi refugees they took in after they escaped the dreadnaught Eye of Palaptine, a heavily armed giant space potato, at Belsavis. I like to think they went on to live normal lives. The reach of the Empire is long and pervasive, but it's a big galaxy.  
> 2) Altis met Anakin and was one of the few who realized he was screwed up. Without that much effort, by the way.  
> 3) "I have found that it is the small everyday deeds of ordinary folks that keep the darkness at bay. Small acts of kindness and love."- J.R.R. Tolkien


End file.
